Slashed Tires
by zevie
Summary: Basically, The Outsiders rewritten from Dallas' point of view. Extremely and shamelessly selfindulgent.
1. Chapter 1

*Disclaimer: Characters belong to S.E.Hinton. Am making no monies from writings etc.  
  
Rating: pg/13 because of swearing  
  
  
  
~~  
  
Dallas stalked from the scene his mind reeling. What the hell had gotten into Johnny? He had never talked back to Dally as long as he could remember. He sighed, then lit a cigarette. Leaning against the side of a building Dallas took a drag off his smoke. So what if he had been kinda hassling Cherry. He wasn't really gonna hurt her. Just have a little fun with her. Dally smiled slyly, imagining exactly what he would have done with her.  
  
Dally jumped as a hand came down firmly on his shoulder. Annoyed, he turned around. He found himself staring up into the angry black eyes of Tim Shepard. A little shiver of apprehension ran up his spine and he backed up a step. Catching his breath he let a cocky smile find its way to his lips.  
  
"Dallas." Tim did not return Dally's grin.  
  
"Tim," Dally raised a hand in greeting. Moving like lightning Tim grasped Dally's forearm and hauled him up an inch away from his face. Dally's heart skipped a beat. He glanced away from Tim and flicked his cigarette aside. He could feel Tim's eyes boring holes through his skull. "Whadaya want," he asked, his voice louder and higher than he had meant it to be.  
  
Tim couldn't help smiling at Dally's attempt to stay cool. For a minute he was tempted to let the kid go. Then he remembered his reason for wanting to kick Dally's ass. He glared down at the blond boy, an image of his slashed tires flashing vividly in his memory.  
  
"You wouldn't happen to know anything about some slashed tires would ya Dallas?" he growled.  
  
'Slashed tires? What the hell?' Dally thought, frowning in confusion. He looked up at Tim. "I don't know nothin' 'bout no slashed tires," he snapped.  
  
"Think hard Dallas." Tim seemed to radiate anger. In a fit of mad humor, Dally pictured Tim with horns and a tail, flames burning in his eyes. A small smile crept across his face. He was rewarded with a stinging slap from Tim. "There ain't nothin' funny about slashed tires!"  
  
Dally's eyes flashed with anger. "I told you! I never." The words died in his mouth as a mental image of himself, stoned beyond belief appeared in his mind. He remember crouching behind a car.a knife in his hand. 'Shit!' he thought, frantically trying to convince himself that he hadn't actually had anything to do with Tim's car. He swallowed nervously. "Look man, I don't know a thing 'boutcha tires."  
  
Tim smirked. He knew Dallas too well not to know when he was lying. And hearing the slight trace of a New York accent in Dally's words was a dead giveaway. He caught Dally's gaze and the younger boy winced slightly at the confidant look in Tim's eyes. "Yeah, well I think you do." Before Dally could respond, Tim kneed him hard, a little lower than he had meant to. Dally gasped, his face twisting in pain. He fairly collasped onto Tim, his free hand grabbing frantically at his groin. Grasping his arm in a grip that would leave bruises, Tim jerked him upright preparing to beat the living crap outta Dally. Dally twisted, bring his hand up hard, slamming his fist into Tim's left eye. Momentarily blinded, Tim staggered back, dragging Dallas with him. Dally kicked his knee with all of his strength and the two went down onto the hard cement. Being bigger and heavier it took Tim all of 5 seconds to get on top of Dally. He slugged Dallas once, hard in his side. He was startled to hear the disturbing crunching sound of breaking bone at the impact. He glanced at Dallas but the blond only glared back in near hatred giving no sign that he was hurt. 'Enough of this,' Tim thought. He pushed off the younger boy, and jumped to his feet. He could feel a trickle of blood on his cheek, and his left eye was starting to swell shut. Dally stared up at him defiantly from the ground where he hadn't moved.  
  
"Bet you'll think again 'fore you go slashin' tires," Tim spat. He turned and stalked off, wincing as pain shot through his knee. 'Tore a muscle or somethin' he thought annoyed. He wiped his face and jumped into his waiting car.  
  
Dallas lay on the ground, listening to the sound of Tim's receding steps. Once he was sure Tim was gone he crumple, wrapping his arms tightly around his aching side. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe. 'Asshole,' he thought angrily. He pushed himself up, gasping lightly at the pain burning in his side. "I'll get you," he swore quietly stumbling out into the street. 


	2. Chapter 2

Slashed Tires Chapter 2  
  
A/N: Sorry if chapter is not as good.writer's block. Anyone know a good cure? .PS Thank you so much for the nice reviews all!!!  
  
Disclaimer: All (well most) characters belong to S.E.Hinton, as well as any aspect of the plot that is from her book "The Outsiders" not making money from writings.and the rest.  
  
A car horn blared and tires squealed as an old green Ford swerved to avoid hitting Tim's car head on. Tim cursed under his breath and the driver flashed him a blasphemous hand signal. Time returned the insult, then stepped on the gas pedal. Muttering swear words under his breath, Tim wheeled his car into the parking lot of a nearby bar. He swung out of the car almost as soon as he stopped it, not caring if his parking was lopsided. He stomped into the bar and unceremoniously plunked himself down on one of the empty stools.  
  
"Beer," he said monotonously, and the bartender quickly complied. Tim swallowed half his drink and brought the glass down with a bang, spraying tiny droplets of the amber liquid across the counter.  
  
'Bad day?" the bartender asked mildly, wiping at the spills with a rag. "You look like you been in a fight," he added. He tapped at the edge of Tim's eye with one finger. Time pulled away, making a face.  
  
"Some punk slashed my tires. Had to teach him a lesson," Tim growled.  
  
"Who'd ya teach it to?" A young man in his 20s dropped down beside Tim. Tim glanced up and smiled wanly, recognising one of his gang members.  
  
"Dally - Dallas Winston," Tim replied, gulping down the rest of his beer and signalling the bartender for another.  
  
The bartender looked up, startled, and his gang-mate scratched his head in confusion.  
  
"Dallas Winston? Ain't he that hood y'all are always talkin' 'bout being in jail and all?" The bartender leaned forward, his eyes on Tim.  
  
"Man, I thought you and that kid was tight - like you was best friends or somethin'," Tim's gang-mate was also looking at him.  
  
Tim shrugged. "Yeah, we're tight, and we fight to ya know," Tim replied, rolling his eyes at his friend's stupidity. Then to the bartender "Yeah thas who I mean."  
  
The bartender whistled and shook his head in awe. "Man, you must be some fighter to get through alive! I hear he's like a wild thing fightin'."  
  
Tim almost choked on his second beer.  
  
"You ain't kiddin'!" Tim's gang-mate turned eagerly to the bartender. "I saw him fight this guy once, an' he breaked both his arms.and all 'cause the guy owed him a buck!"  
  
Tim burst out laughing. He glanced at the two babbling awe-struck men and laughed harder. He paid for his beers, and jogged out of the bar, still laughing to himself. Sure Dally was a good fighter but he wasn't exactly superhuman. And Time doubted Dallas would go through the effort of breaking some guy's arms just for a buck. Maybe he'd rough him up a little. But, in any case the rumours were way off. His good mood restored, Time jumped into his car and headed home. 


	3. Chapter 3

Slashed Tired Chapter 3  
  
A/N: Thanks again for all the reviews! And ya Dally was kinda a wimp. Oh well I'm working on it, promise!  
  
Disclaimer: Characters belong to S.E. Hinton blah blah blah no money making etceteras.  
  
~~  
  
Dallas stumbled up the steps to Buck Merrils place. He caught himself on the metal rail then banged on the door with his other hand. He leaned his head against the cool brick of the house, and waited. The faint sounds of laughter and song filtered through the thin wood of the door. Dally shifted closer trying to hear them. The sounds were happy and carefree, pulling his thoughts away from his pain. The door was wrenched open interrupting his reverie and Buck stuck his head out into the air. He turned it left, then right, and grinned seeing Dally.  
  
"Shit man, you look like hell," Buck drawled.  
  
"Fuck you," Dally replied half-heartedly. He was tired, but he straightened, and gave Buck his best commanding look.  
  
"I want a place to sleep for awhile," he said gazing steadfastly at his friend. Buck shifted uncomfortably under Dally's look and glanced down at his feet.  
  
"I got rooms," he said finally. "You know that."  
  
Dallas stepped forward suddenly and Buck backed off, startled. Dally ignored him, pushing past into the crowded room. Buck disappeared back into the crowd. Dally moved easily through the mass of people toward the stairs. The music and laughter that had seemed so pleasant outside grated on his nerved now, making his head pound with it's volume. Ignoring his discomfort, Dally tried to relax and make like he was having a good time. He smiled at a few people, brushed off some drunk blonde who was trying to seduce him then came to a halt in front of the stairs. A sudden hush fell across the room. Sylvia was sitting on the couch, her arms wrapped around another, lips locked in a passionate kiss. The couple looked up, sensing trouble. Dally hardly felt a thing at the sight of his ex-girlfriend making out with some guy. Sylvia was a bitch, and not really pretty in any case. But, his pride was on the line now. He had to defend his former claim on her. It was an unwritten law.  
  
Ignoring the stabbing pain in his side, Dally stalked forward. The guy sat frozen, staring stupidly at Dallas, his eyes wide. Dally reached the couple and with one swift move hauled the other man up by his collar. Sylvia shrieked indignantly, but Dallas barely even noticed her. He slammed the guy hard into the wall. The other squirmed in fear, tugging uselessly at Dally's grip. Dallas punched him once and Sylvia screamed witlessly. Dallas stepped back from the guy, who dropped instantly, rubbing his jaw. He glanced up, cringing under Dally's gaze, then fairly ran from the room. Dallas smirked then turned, pushing past an angrily sputtering Sylvia. The crowd parted for him like the sea parted for Moses, and he made his way smoothly up the stairs. Below him, he heard the murmurs grow as the party resumed.  
  
He slid into the room and closed the door swiftly behind him. Safe away from judging eyes, Dally flopped down on the bed, sighing loudly. Remembering the look of terror on the face of Sylvia's guy he felt a rush of giddiness and he laughed softly to himself.  
  
'So easy!' he thought delightedly. He'd expected more of a fight from Sylvia's man. She wasn't usually interested in wimps.  
  
Dally sighed again, his excitement fading. He rubbed his head, his headache returning with a vengeance. Remembering why he'd needed a room, Dally sat up and tugged his shirt off. He inspected his side. There was no blood, only the beginnings of what promised to be a very colourful bruise. Dally lay down again grimacing slightly. His side hurt, but he had been hurt worse before, and the bed was soft and inviting. He kicked off his shoes and curled up on his side, burrowing his head into the thin pillow. Old and tattered, the bed was still something of a luxury to Dallas who'd spent nights out in the rain on a bench or curled up against a building. It didn't take long for him to fall into a deep dreamless sleep. 


	4. Chapter 4

1 Slashed Tires Chapter 4  
  
Disclaimer: Do I really have to do this still? Whatever, all the characters belong to S.E.Hinton, unless you see one which wasn't in any of her books, then it's probably mine etc. Oh and I took some of the lines from the book but it's a little hard not to do that here. Or at least not to do that without making a chapter in between which I should have done OH WELL.  
  
~  
  
"Daaallyyyy!"  
  
Dallas woke with a jolt. He sat up quickly wondering if he'd still been dreaming when he'd heard his name. Someone was banging on the door to his room.  
  
"Dally! Jeez man."  
  
Dally groaned softly. He rubbed his eyes, wearily thinking that he hadn't had nearly enough sleep.  
  
"DALLAS!"  
  
"WHAT!!!!!" he yelled back stumbling to the door and yanking it open. Buck stood, one hand on his hip, the other poised to knock. If Dallas had opened the door one second later, he would have been slugged in the head. The thought nearly made him smile, and he had to remind himself to give Buck the standard 'look'. "This better be important." He glowered menacingly at Buck, who was looking as if he'd had about 10 too many beers.  
  
"Ya gots companys Dallas," Buck slurred waving his hand around vaguely at nothing. "Saids was important."  
  
"Who is it?" Dally asked impatiently.  
  
"Kids, said it was important."  
  
"I know Buck. Who was it."  
  
"Kids."  
  
"What kids."  
  
"Dunno."  
  
Dally threw his hands up in disgust. Giving up on Buck he stomped angrily down the stairs, Buck following unsteadily. The party was still going full force, and Buck was soon lost, having been offered yet another drink. Dally pushed through the crowd and made his way to the front hall. The crowd had pushed up nearly to the door, so Dally didn't see who was waiting for him until he was nearly a foot away.  
  
'Johnny? Ponyboy? What on earth are they doing here?' Dally glanced suspiciously at the two youths.  
  
"Ok kids, whatta ya need me for?" Johnny looked up at Dallas. His eyes were wide and dark in his pale face. They had a haunted look to them that made Dallas suddenly wonder what kind of news they were here to bring. He glanced at Ponyboy, but the kid looked as freaked as Johnny.  
  
"Dally," Johnny said his name quietly, almost pleading, "we need your help."  
  
Dallas was silent, stunned with the drama in all of this. Johnny took a deep breath then went on, his voice steady but no louder.  
  
"I killed a Soc."  
  
Dally almost laughed with surprise. He smirked at Johnny. "Well, good for you kid."  
  
Johnny gave him a tiny wavering smile. But Dally could tell he wasn't proud of it. 'Strange kid. Probably just worried 'bout the fuzz.' Dally's listened intently as Johnny went into the details of the story, Ponyboy occasionally adding in. Ponyboy looked even worse than Johnny did. His eyes were filled with terror, and he looked like he was going to be sick as Johnny told his tale. Dally couldn't figure it out. He would have been proud as hell to teach one of those rich bastards a lesson. Something that wouldn't be forgotten soon. He leaned against the wall and listened to Johnny's story with half an ear. There was something bothering him, a thought lurking at the edges of his mind, showing itself in slight glimpses that only served to pique his interest further. A feeling, one he wasn't comfortable with. Giving in to his curiosity, he let his mind turn fully to this thought, letting Johnny's story drift from his consciousness. He was shocked to find the feeling was that of unease. He was uneasy with the death of that Soc, uneasy with Johnny's killing, uneasy with anything and everything that had to do with this.murder. It was a dangerous thought and he pushed it quickly from his mind. It refused to disappear, lingering in bits and pieces, in vague flashes of discomfort, taunting him with the idea that maybe some part of him still had a care for the value of a human life. 


	5. Chapter 5

1 Slashed Tires Chapter 5  
  
Rated pg-13 for swearing I think  
  
Disclaimer: Don't own anything you can identify as someone else's. Am not making money from this either, though I wish I were (jkz).  
  
~  
  
Tim pulled his car over and hopped out into the bright sunlight. He breathed deeply enjoying the fresh morning air. He bounded up the steps to Buck Merrils place. He slid through the open door and surveyed the scene before him. From the mess it looked like Buck had thrown another party the night before. The remainders of food and drink were everywhere, splattered on the walls and over the wood floor and scraggly rug. The lamps were missing their shades and someone had broken the hall light. Tim heard a groan from somewhere in the living room and he made his way cautiously through the wreckage.  
  
"Morning Buck," Tim called cheerfully, spotting the blond at last. Buck was half resting on a couch half lying across the floor. He looked up through bleary eyes at his friend.  
  
"Fuck off Shepard," he mumbled, clearly hung over.  
  
Tim smirked and dragged the other up to a sitting position. "And I would, except, well, 'someone' owes me a little money." He grinned as Buck groaned yet again. "Time to pay up buddy."  
  
"I don't have any," Buck muttered.  
  
Tim sat up straight. He was in a good mood and he didn't want to ruin it. He just wanted to get his money and leave. "Look Buck, it's been long since you said you'd pay me-"  
  
"I said I don't got no money," Buck said loudly.  
  
Tim tensed slightly at the harshness is Buck's tone.  
  
"You said you'd have it today," Tim said in a low voice.  
  
Buck rubbed his head. "Look I had it all yesterday I did, ready to pay ya, and then I got drunk and somehow got talked into givin' it to Dallas-"  
  
"Dally!" Tim yelped.  
  
~  
  
"Dally!" Dallas groaned. Hearing his name being called he felt a keen sense of déjà vu. He sat up slowly feeling vaguely disoriented. He was sore, partially from fighting Tim and partially from the fight he'd got into last night at Buck's party. Some jerk from Tim's gang was spewing shit about how there was something 'going on' between him and Tim. Apparently Tim had stupidly said they were 'tight'. "Moron," Dally muttered out loud. The rumours had made him wish even more that he could get even with Tim. Dally stretched and looked around for his shirt. He grabbed it and was about to put it on when he heard muffled cursing coming from below him. Dallas froze, instantly recognising the voice: it was Tim. Silently he stood up, tossing his shirt back on his bed. He opened the door as soundlessly as possible and crept down the stairs. Dally smirked as he edged closer to where Tim's voice was coming from. Revenge was gonna be sweet!  
  
~  
  
Tim paced back and forth muttering curses. He was already pissed off at Dallas because of his tires. The kid would have to get in his way a second time! Tim wheeled about to face Buck once again. "I can't believe you would just give him all your money! Just like that! And you knew I'd be coming today!" Tim ranted. Buck yawned, already bored and much to sick for this scene. His gaze drifted past Tim as some movement caught his attention. He sat up suddenly, seeing Dally. Dallas was moving silently forward, his gaze fixed on the back of Tim's head.  
  
"I mean really! Wouldn't take much to remember." Tim trailed off seeing Buck suddenly tense. Tim turned ever so slightly, following Buck's gaze.  
  
He was instantly knocked off his feet as something hurled itself into his chest. Tim didn't even have time to cry out in surprise before he had the breath knocked out of him. Gasping, he clutched at his stomach where he had been hit. A fist connected solidly with his jaw and Tim winced, tasting blood. His attacker leapt off him, giving Tim the time to push himself up and catch a glimpse of the other.  
  
"Dallas!" Tim gasped in fury.  
  
"Tim! Good we know each other, now get off your ass and fight man!" Dally fairly spat the words out, his eyes glinting with anger.  
  
Tim jumped to his feet a made a dash at Dallas. The two grappled for a minute before Dally was wrenched out roughly by Buck.  
  
"Cut it out! You're giving me a worse headache!" Buck growled. He shoved Dally hard sending the boy sprawling onto the couch. Tim looked from one to the other, panting slightly from the fight. Dallas glared back at him while Buck had gone back to rubbing his head. Buck sighed. "Look if y'all want to fight take it out! I got enough mess around here to last a life."  
  
A/N: PLEASE READ THIS!!!! First of all, thank you reviewers! The reviews are always inspiring. Just wondering, is there anyone out there who's reading this and would like to see the story go somewhere in particular at this point? If any of you have any ideas please!!!! I am begging for your input. If not I'll continue anyway. PS I will SO try to keep this story going as far as possible! 


	6. Chapter 6

Slashed Tires Chapter 6  
  
Rated pg-13 for swearing and I do this time, oh and sexual innuendoes  
  
(that's right folks, so beware), if that matters in a rating  
  
Disclaimer: Don't own em and don't make money.  
  
A/N: WARNING! I totally changed Tim's personality in this chapter, but trust me there is a method to my madness. Also it was really fun to write him this way. And this chapter is weird. Beware to the reader.  
  
Oh ya  
  
A/N2: Thank you for reviews people! It might get a bit sappy at times becuz a) am usually tired, therefore what is truly sap seems like drama to me  
  
b) I'm trying to put a message in this story, and it's HARD. So bear with me, and if you notice it getting stupid sappy please tell me and thanx.  
  
Also thank you for the ideas, but when I went to write them the pen seemed to have a mind of it's own. It produced the following chapter(s). I will do them eventually though, if possible and THANK YOU!!!!  
  
~  
  
Dallas shoved open the door with a bang and stomped out into the open, his back to Tim, the idea of a surprise attack being launched on him clearly not presenting itself. Tim followed him wearily, his anger subsiding. He heard Buck muttering to himself. The guy really must have been hung-over to mess with Dally when he was in a dangerous mood, but apparently Dallas couldn't care less about Buck's interference. Tim sighed in annoyance, the beautiful morning ruined for him.  
  
Dally turned swiftly to face Tim, his anger still fierce. He would have taken Buck down for getting in the way, but he wasn't stupid, and he knew in his present state there was no way in hell he was going to win a fight against two hoods at the same time. Not that Buck was much of a hood in any case. Dallas glared angrily at Tim, tensing his muscles in prepare of the fight.  
  
Tim returned Dally's stare, not making a move. His will to fight had fled completely. Tim's eyes fell on Dally's side, where an impressive purplish bruise was forming. His gaze traveled across the others body, noting the other, smaller bruises and various cuts that he knew he hadn't caused.  
  
Dallas followed Tim's line of sight, annoyed at the others lack of movement. "I got into a fight," he said impatiently. "Which was your fault again you mother-fucking asshole." Tim stiffened in surprise. Dally readied himself for Tim's attack, his heart beating in anticipation. But Tim relaxed and only shrugged, much to Dally's frustration.  
  
"How is it my fault if you get your ass kicked?" Tim knew the statement would piss Dally off, maybe even push him to strike. But he didn't plan on fighting Dallas if he could help it. The guy didn't look too good, and Tim didn't want to hurt him.  
  
Dally frowned, unsure in which direction to take Tim's comment. Deciding to ignore the insult, he charged ahead with his explanation. "One of your stupid gang guys came 'round with some story about how you and me-" Dally hesitated, not wanting to say the words. "The guy said you said me and you were, like, tight and all, and he took it as that you and me-" He stopped again. 'Damn,' he thought furiously. There was no way out but to just say it. He didn't want to. The idea embarrassed him. If he'd been anyone else he would have been squirming or blushing but the only evidence that he was uncomfortable were the abrupt endings in his speech. To make matters worse Tim was smirking, his arms folded across his chest, enjoying ever minute of Dally's embarrassment. Dally wished suddenly he had just punched Tim and left the explanation at that.  
  
"Go on." Tim's voice danced with laughter. Dally cursed silently. Tim had to pick this day to turn into a comic instead of his usual "lemme kick your ass" attitude. No way could Dally back out now. He'd been dared to say it. If he didn't. well his pride was too great to back down now. He took a breath and said quickly and loudly:  
  
"He said you an' me were going together like we were fucking or something." Dally's words ran together, tumbling over each other in their haste to get outta his mouth. Tim could feel his sides shaking with repressed laughter. The sight of Dally bothered like that erased any trace of anger that he would have felt at the idea that him and Dally were a closeted "item". He looked straight at Dallas. The other was glaring back at him, looking as if he'd just ran down the block and back, his face tinged pink. On anyone else it would have been a healthy glow. But Tim knew Dally was blushing and that fact broke him. Tim threw back his head, his laughter pouring out from him like water over a waterfall. It was sidesplitting, gut-busting, maniacal laughter that he had no hope of controlling.  
  
"Shut up!" Dally yelled, launching himself at the other, who could do nothing but raise his hands helplessly as the blond knocked them both off their feet. The pair hit the ground and separated, Dally struggling to his knees, Tim rolling around on the ground laughing as loud as ever. Dally glared furiously at Tim. "It ain't funny!"  
  
"Wrong! It's hilarious!" Tim managed to gasp out. He crawled over to Dallas and batted his eyelashes stupidly at him. "Oh Dally," he breathed in a high girly voice. "You're so strong-" His words were cut off as Dally jumped on him yet again. The two fought, and somehow, Dally ended up on top. He tugged Tim up by the front of his jacket, then slammed him down hard on the ground knocking the wind from him. Tim gasped in surprise. He hadn't expected that. He made a mental note not to underestimate his "friend" ever again. Dally slammed him down again. Tim dizzily fought for breath, bracing himself for another winding blow when suddenly a voice cried:  
  
"WHAT the hell are you two mother-fuckers DOING?!" 


	7. Chapter 7

1 Slashed Tires Chapter 7  
  
Rated pg-13 for obvious reasons  
  
Disclaimer: You know the drill.  
  
A/N: Tim's character is still changed. This chapter goes nowhere in the immediate plot but it was a helluva lota fun to write so meh. It's the "transition" piece. And sorry for the controversial terms etc. Beware the sexual innuendo, of which I am queen.  
  
~  
  
It was a perfect picture. If only Two-Bit had remembered to steal a camera. Tim was sprawled, sweating and panting and red in the face on the ground. Dally was straddling him wearing only a pair of low cut jeans that were too big for him. They were slipping down around his hips, revealing the top of his white shorts.  
  
He knew it wasn't what it looked like, but he cocked an eyebrow and gave them a suspicious look anyway. "Looks like that rumour could be true," he mused, stroking his chin in an effort to look serious. He expected Dally to snort and tell him to fuck off. But it seemed like someone had already messed with him.  
  
"No! It's not - we're not - we were just fighting!" Dally said desperately. He shook his head violently. "We wouldn't ever - I wouldn't EVER do that with a GUY!"  
  
"Your fly is open," Two-Bit replied with perfect comical timing.  
  
Dally looked down and the look of horror that appeared on his face was absolutely PRICELESS. Tim burst out laughing. Two-Bit followed suit. Dally looked from one to the other quickly, his blush growing until he was bright red. Two-Bit gasped through his laughter.  
  
"Glory Dallas! I ain't never seen you embarrassed! Gosh you're as red as a tomato!" He broke down laughing falling to the ground and beating it with his fists. Dally bit his lip. He was fiercely embarrassed, and that turned itself into a boiling anger for both of the older men. Glaring contemptuously at each of them in turn, he let loose a string of swear words, showing off his immense vocabulary.  
  
Two-Bit snorted, encouraged by Tim's continued laughter. "Jesus Dally it was a fucking joke."  
  
"Someone needs to loosen up," Tim teased, wiggling his fingers and grinning evilly. Two-Bit watched in fascination as Dallas's eyes widened and he backed off quickly from Tim.  
  
"You wouldn't!" he gasped looking stunned. He staggered up only to be knocked down once again as Tim vaulted himself off the ground and tackled him. Sitting on Dally's legs Tim began to ferociously and mercilessly tickle the younger boy. Two-Bit gaped in astonishment as Dally burst out into helpless laughter, twisting and writhing uselessly under Tim's fingers.  
  
"Stop!" He shrieked in a very unDallas-like fashion. "Argh! Stop it!"  
  
"Say please." Tim was clearly enjoying torturing Dallas like this. Two-Bit hooted and clapped his hands, falling back on his butt as he laughed. Tim winked at him. "C'mon, help me hold him down!" he called.  
  
"Do and DIE!" Dally yelped between peals of laughter.  
  
Two-Bit ignored Dallas's threats and grabbed the blond's arms, stopping him completely from doing anything to lessen Tim's assault. Dally practically screamed with laughter, Tim's fingers dancing unhindered along the most sensitive places on his upper body.  
  
"PLEASE!" Dally shouted, "There I said it - STOP!" He squealed in anguish when Tim only tickled him harder.  
  
"Say pretty please," Two-Bit laughed.  
  
"FUCK!" Dally yelled in response. The two older boys tumbled off of Dallas, laughing idiotically. Dally curled into himself his hands curled over his side, which had begun to ache furiously while he was laughing.  
  
"I'm going to fucking kill you two," he gasped, closing his eyes and groaning softly with pain.  
  
"Glory I never dreamed you would be ticklish Dally," Two-Bit said delightedly, wiping his watering eyes.  
  
"Forget when I learned it. Seems like I always knew it." Tim had calmed down and was lying peacefully on the sparse grass and dirt that covered Buck's tiny property. The door to the house suddenly flew open and Buck staggered out, still obviously hung-over.  
  
"Your stuff Dallas," he muttered, dropping the clothing down on the microscopic porch and turning back into his house.  
  
Dally stood up slowly. He didn't want to move really, but he was cold and wanted his shirt. He staggered past Tim and flopped down on the steps pulling his clothing back on. Tim pushed himself up, and brushed the dirt off his jeans. His giddiness was gone, and he felt weird having done what he just did. He glanced at Dally, but the blonde was absorbed in his shoelaces, muttering to himself as he tied them wrong over and over. Tim smirked, then walked over to his car. He looked at Two-Bit, hesitating. He didn't want this to go around. It certainly did sound like something a faggot would do. Two-Bit gave him a sardonic smile assuring him without words that his rep wouldn't be ruined. Tim nodded curtly and slid into his car.  
  
Two-Bit's eyes traveled back to Dallas. The younger boy had given up on his shoelaces and was pulling on his jacket. His movements were slower than his usual sharp pace and Two-Bit guessed he was hurting from some fight or another. He'd seen the bruises. Shrugging, he stood up and made his way languidly over to Dallas. The blonde glared at him, but there was no real hate behind the look. Still, to be safe Two-Bit waited a minute before he started talking. "I cam by with a message," he said simply. Then he waited. It took less than a minute before Dally sighed and dropped the look.  
  
"What message?" he asked tiredly, resting his head in his own arms.  
  
"Well, um, I was over at the Curtis house this morning, and, er, well, this story kinda came up," Two-Bit said carefully, handing Dally an article ripped from the morning paper. Dally took it and looked it over, his face expressionless. He handed it back to Two-Bit and shrugged. Two-Bit examined him closely, but the younger boy gave no indication at all as to what he feeling. Two-Bit sighed.  
  
"It's Ponyboy and Johnny," he added.  
  
"I know," Dally said impatiently. "But so what?"  
  
"So." Two-Bit sighed running his hand through his hair.  
  
"Darry wants to talk to you," he said flatly. 


	8. Chapter 8

1 Slashed Tires Chapter 8  
  
Rated the same Disclaimer the same  
  
A/N: Two things to beware:  
  
This chapter is either sappy or dramatic depending on how much caffeine you've had recently.  
  
There is yet another, well actually two unfinished fights in this chapter. Really, am getting sick of them, so if anyone is feeling to same way, pleeez review and say so.  
  
This chapter was inspired by the review of the great Pachelbel.  
  
~  
  
The ride to the Curtis place was a short one, but it was uncomfortable. Dallas sat in the passenger seat, silent, refusing to acknowledge Two-Bit's presence. He gazed steadfastly out the side window, hardly even blinking. Two-Bit, not one to enjoy silence, tried to fill the silence by telling every detail of Darry's response. He tried asking questions, he even tried telling jokes, but the icy void remained between them still. Finally he gave up, lapsing into a silence as deep, if not as chilling, as Dally's. Dallas hardly noticed the lack of talk suddenly occurring from beside him. The car rounded a corner and to Two-Bit's relief, the Curtis house appeared. He stepped on the gas pedal and pulled up quickly by the house. Dally slid out quickly, faster than Two-Bit, though he still looked as if he were deep in thought.  
  
'Or stoned,' Two-Bit thought with malice, sticking his tongue out at the back of Dally's head. The two entered the Curtis home, Dally before Two- Bit. They had hardly stepped inside the door when Darry had Dally by his shirt and slammed him up against the wall.  
  
"Where is he?" Darry demanded, his voice raspy. There was a slightly crazed look in his eyes that sent shivers up and down Dally's spine.  
  
"Don't know," Dally replied monotonously. Darry punched him, without warning. It felt like someone had cracked his head with a heavy frying pan. Dally gazed up dizzily at Darry. His vision was fuzzy.  
  
"You know! Where the hell are they?" Darry was practically foaming at the mouth. But his stubborn insistence was irritating, and Dally felt his own temper start to rise.  
  
"I don't fucking know Darry! Why the hell do you think I would!" Another punch, this time Dally lost his vision entirely for what seemed like a long time. He waited impatiently for his sight, wanting badly to return Darry's strike. He heard Two-Bit yell something, and then suddenly Darry was backing off. Dally rubbed his eyes, and looked around trying to see what had happened. His vision cleared and Soda was pushing Darry gently out of the kitchen. Sodapop turned around, and Dally nearly did a double take. The boy's hair was messed up and duller than it used to be. His eyes were troubled and weary, and he had dark circles around his eyes.  
  
"Dallas," he said softly, pleadingly. "I know you must know where they are. Come on, who would they go to? Who would anyone go to for help if they'd done what they did?" Soda's eyes were begging him. Dally pressed his lips together. Strangely, part of him felt that he should tell Soda where they were. But most of him felt like smacking Soda. The guy looked so pathetic! He almost looked like he was gonna cry.  
  
"I'm tellin' you I don't know nothin'," Dallas drawled. Soda said nothing. Dally looked at him. Soda glared back at him, obviously not believing him in the least.  
  
"I don't-"  
  
"Yeah right Dallas. You're lying. Again. God, it's like every other thing you say is a lie!" Soda's patience snapped. He'd been through a lot lately and the last thing he needed was Dallas getting in his way. Slowly, without realising it, Soda advanced on Dally. "Do you enjoy it?! Do you actually like getting on peoples nerves? Why the fuck won't you tell me! I care a hell of a lot more about either of them. I bet you'd let them die without a second thought!"  
  
The words were barely out of his mouth before Dally turned on him. He punched Soda hard, his aim off, eyes clouded with anger. Hardly missing a beat Soda whacked him back, then pushed him. Dallas tumbled backwards over a chair, landing hard on his ass. He glared up at Soda. The other stared down at him, looking torn. On one hand he hadn't meant to start a fight. On the other hand, Soda still thought that Dallas was being a stupid prick for not telling him where his own brother was. Dally stood up quickly, not taking his eyes off Soda. Soda clenched his hands into fists, ready to fight.  
  
"I swear Sodapop, I am thisclose to breaking your fucking nose," Dally seethed, his eyes glittering with anger.  
  
Soda opened his mouth with every intention of snapping back at Dallas.  
  
"You bastard, all I wanted to know was where the hell my brother is! You-" Soda bit his lip, looking away, his anger suddenly replaced by an unbearable need to see his brother.  
  
"You wouldn't even fucking know what I'm talking about. If you'd had a brother." Soda trailed off. There was no point. Dally wouldn't get it.  
  
Dally sighed. He could tell him, just to get the Curtises off his back. Dallas opened his mouth, but every instinct in him instructed him to keep it a secret. He shouldn't tell anyone. It was the best thing to do for the kids. He knew Soda wouldn't spill anything about them intentionally, but he wasn't about to take any chances.  
  
"I don't know Sodapop," Dallas said stiffly. Soda looked at him. He was angry, but the will to fight had left him. He swallowed once and nodded.  
  
"Well, could you.could you maybe give Ponyboy-" Soda stopped. Wordlessly he handed Dallas an envelope, with the word "Ponyboy" scrawled lovingly across the front. Dally stared at it, not wanting to touch it, not wanting to tangle himself in such strong emotions that he didn't understand. But what could he do? Silently he took the letter from Soda, slipping it into his jacket pocket. Soda gave him a quick forced smile then handed him another envelope. Then he turned and slid out the kitchen after Darry.  
  
Dally opened the unmarked envelope and his eyes widened. It looked like Soda had given him nearly half his pay-check just to deliver some letter to Ponyboy. Dally shook his head. Why on earth would Soda pay that much? Was the letter really worth it? He shook his head again, as if he could rid himself of his confusion. It just didn't make sense. Why would Soda care that much if Ponyboy read whatever sentimental shit was in that letter? Unless it was money, or papers to leave the country of something, it couldn't be that important. He heard a noise and he looked up startled. Two- Bit was looking at him - Dally had forgotten he was even there. Two-Bit smiled cynically at Dallas.  
  
"Gave you money to deliver that letter didn't he." It was more of a statement that a question. Dally nodded, frowning slightly, still confused.  
  
Two-Bit gave him a tired look. "Soda cares about Ponyboy. He cares that much," he pointed to the envelope, "and much, much more."  
  
Dally was silent. The explanation meant nothing to him. 


	9. Chapter 9

Slashed Tires Chapter what now? Oh 9  
  
A/N: This chapter inspired by review of the brilliant Seselian.  
  
~  
  
Dallas had barely left Curtis property before the cops were on him. They pulled up beside him, and before he knew it he was being dragged into that stupid car like so many times before.  
  
"What the fuck!" he managed once they were speeding their way down the street. Without warning he was slapped hard across the face.  
  
"Shut your mouth boy," snapped one of the men.  
  
'Police,' Dally thought darkly. 'Fucking assholes.'  
  
They pulled up at the station, and the two policemen hopped out. Dally stayed where he was. His stomach was growling, partly because he hadn't eaten anything all day, and partly because he was on what he considered enemy territory. He waited uneasily for the men to wrench him out of the car. He had missed for what crime they were picking him up for, but the cuffs on his wrists told him all he needed to know. A night in jail, maybe a few, was waiting for him. Not exactly his idea of fun.  
  
The two policemen pulled him roughly out of the car. One of them led the way and the other clamped his hands down on Dally's shoulders, pushing him forward. Dally stumbled up the steps to the station, muttering a curse. Inside the station, the policemen pushed him past the usual hallway, which led to the cells. Instead, they led him down a longer, darker hallway, one that Dally had only been in a handful of times. He was shoved into a dark room. The room had no windows, and the only furnishings were a few metal chairs and a long table. Dally's insides twisted at the sight of the room. He didn't know what he was here for, but he didn't have a good feeling about it. The cops followed him inside, and then stood behind him at the door, hands clasped behind them. In the darkness they looked almost identical, the same stance and uniform, faceless, like medieval guards. Dallas swore at them, hoping for a reaction of some kind.  
  
"Fuck." His voice seemed unnaturally loud in the silence of the room. Neither of the men moved when he spoke. Dally licked his lips uncomfortably. He walked around the table just for something to do, then gave up and sat down on one of the hard chairs, waiting like the policemen. He waited, the minutes ticking by, unsure who or what he was even waiting for. He looked at the cops, but neither of them offered any answers. Finally, just as he'd made up his mind to say something, the door opened and a tall, strong policeman stalked in. He closed the door firmly then turned and smiled coldly at Dally.  
  
"Good afternoon Mr. Winston." Dallas stiffened, automatically suspicious of anyone who would address him with such formality, especially a cop.  
  
The policeman held out his hand in greeting. Dally smirked and raised his arms, handcuffs dangling off his wrists. The man shrugged and seated himself in the chair across the table from Dally. He leaned forward and placed a small notebook on the table.  
  
"We have a bit of a situation on our hands, Mr. Winston-" the man began.  
  
"It's Dallas," Dally cut in quickly. Not that he wanted to be friendly with a cop, but the "Mr. Winston" bit was creeping him out. Every other cop called him Dallas anyway. Or "stupid JD" at the very least.  
  
"The situation, Mr. Winston," the man continued, ignoring Dally's request, "is rather severe. There has been a murder, a young boy, seventeen or eighteen years old. It took place nearby, a park, far from where this boy lived. Actually very close to where you live, Mr. Winston-"  
  
"I know." Dally regretted the words the minute they were out of his mouth. "I read about it in the paper," he explained hurriedly. The man sat back, stroking his chin thoughtfully.  
  
"Well, Mr. Winston, it is our belief that you were friendly with the accused."  
  
'Why doesn't he just fucking get on with it and ask me where they are!' Dally thought, almost nervously, grinding his teeth.  
  
As if the man could read his thought, he leaned forward suddenly, placing his hands firmly on the table in between them.  
  
"Do you have any idea where they are Mr. Winston?" his eyes were intense gazing steadily at Dally's face.  
  
"No." Dally's voice was calm and confident. They had no reason to doubt him. Except for his rep.  
  
The man narrowed his eyes, the cold smile returning to his face. He leaned back again, and made a motion to the other policemen. Dally looked up suspiciously as the cops walked over to the two of them.  
  
"I don't like liars, Mr. Winston," the man said, matching Dally's confidence. His eyes locked on Dally's face, he repeated his question.  
  
"Where are they, Mr. Winston."  
  
'Mr. Winston. shut up moron.' Dally stopped himself from saying the words he so badly wished he could. Instead he answered dutifully.  
  
"I don't know."  
  
The man motioned again to the policemen. One slid behind him, griping his shoulders tightly. The other was rolling up his sleeves in a perfect imitation of a t.v. cop.  
  
'Oh my god,' Dally thought with disbelief before he was knocked nearly senseless by the man's fist. He blinked feeling the dizziness once again. The cop could be a fair match for Darry.  
  
"I'll ask you again Mr. Winston." The big man's voice had lost its polite lilt. "Where are they." It was a demand, not a question, but Dally kept his answer.  
  
"I don't know."  
  
He was punched again, the man's fist colliding with his jaw. Dally's head snapped to the side. He could taste blood. The policeman cursed, rubbing his hand. He switched places with the cop behind him, his hands coming down hard on Dally's shoulders, his fingers biting into his flesh.  
  
"It doesn't have to be this hard, Mr. Winston," the man's voice sounded almost bored now, as if he'd done this a million times. Dally looked at him, his head pounding.  
  
"You can't-" he gasped.  
  
"But we can, Mr. Winston." The man's eyes glittered with hostility. "The fact of the matter is, we know that you know where they are." The man's mouth curled into a sneer. "So I would advise you to tell us now. It's much easier for you. If not," the man spread his arms wide, including the other two men in his statement, "we have no problem continuing the interrogation this way."  
  
"Fuck you!" Dally spat, before he was silenced by a barrage of stunning blows. They fell on his face, his shoulders, until he was twisting desperately under the cops' grip. The attack stopped as suddenly as it began.  
  
The man behind the desk was laughing. "Calm down man, we're not trying to kill the kid." He smiled sarcastically, and Dally felt a cold chill, wondering if the man really meant that.  
  
"Mr. Winston-" he began again, but Dally didn't need to hear it.  
  
"I said fuck you I don't know where they are damnit!" Before the other cops could act the man had vaulted over the table, his face a mask of fury. He loomed over Dallas, his tall form tense. He grabbed Dally's hair, twisting it into his fist and he pulled the younger boy's head back roughly. Dally glared back at him. The fingers intertwined in his hair hurt like a bitch but he wasn't about to let the man know that.  
  
"Listen you little bastard," the man hissed, forcing his angry face up close to Dallas. "I don't give a fuck about you, or your meaningless pitiful existance! You tell me what I want to know or I'll send you to the chair for this fucking murder!" He jerked his hand back, cracking Dally's skull on the hard metal back of the chair. He slapped Dally once, and Dally almost winced at the ferocity in that one strike.  
  
The idea of being sent to the chair made his stomach twist into a hard knot. He knew the system. Depending on who was making the call, it might not matter that he had an alibi or that others had been seen killing the Soc. But there was no way in hell he was going to rat out Johnny and Ponyboy. Johnny was as good as dead if they found him, and Dallas wasn't about to let that happen. And Ponyboy was a good kid, besides Darry and Soda would kill him if he let Ponyboy get in that much trouble. They had got so mad when he wouldn't tell them where the kid was. Accusing him of not caring, of lying all the time..As Soda's words from that morning flashed through his memory, an idea so obvious and yet so brilliant occurred to him.  
  
He would lie.  
  
Dally swallowed and tried to look hurt. Adrenaline was running through his veins, refusing him to let him actually feel any of the pain.  
  
"Texas," he said hoarsly.  
  
"What?" The man demanded. "Speak up damn you!"  
  
"Texas!" Dally's voice trembled. Tears pricked at his eyes. "They went to Texas, t'hide." He gazed up with fear. The man stood up, releasing Dallas, a triumphant look on his face.  
  
"Where in Texas?"  
  
"They didn't say," Dally voice cracked and he flinched turning away from the man.  
  
"Texas boys," the man drawled to the other cops. "Write it down." He glanced back at Dally.  
  
"You can go," he said dsmissively, looking away in disgust. He obviously wasn't worried that Dally would complain about the beating. 'Bastard,' Dally thought, slinking out of the room.  
  
As soon as their eyes were off of him, Dally stood up straight, smoothing his rumpled hair. 'Stunning performance, Mr. Winston,' Dallas thought with bitter humour, resuming his usual strut as he made his way down the street. 


	10. Chapter 10

1 Slashed Tires Chapter 10  
  
A/N: Inspired by the review of the great Pachelbel. Probably sappy/overly dramatic. Sorry for the wait, writer's block combined with exam freaking- outish-ness.  
  
Dally glanced at the sky. The beautiful morning had been deceiving, and now the sky was dark with heavy gray rain-clouds. Dally silently cursed himself for his temper. He couldn't stay with the Curtises tonight, they were pissed at him for not telling where Ponyboy and Johnny were. Steve was bound to side with Soda, so he was out. Two-Bit and Tim were out. There was no way Dallas was going near them after what they did that morning. Dally sighed as he heard the distant rumble of thunder. A night outside in the rain was not appealing. Normally it wasn't such a big deal, but as sore and angry and tired as he was now, all he wanted to do was fall asleep in warmth. He closed his eyes, trying in vain to think of where he could stay for the night, but his tired mind could only come up with one option…  
  
"I'm home," Dally announced, opening the door to his family's apartment. He got no response, but Dallas hadn't expected a warm welcome. The room was dark and dirty and smelled of booze. Dally brushed his hand over the back of an old chair, noticing with malice that the furniture here was in even worse condition than Buck's had been after his party. He glanced over to where his so called father sat, beer in hand, watching a game that was turned up so loudly Dally was willing to bet he hadn't noticed that his son had come in. Not that Dally cared. No, if anything he Dally would be glad if no one noticed him. It would make things a hell of a lot easier for him. His stomach growled and obediently he made his way through the empty beer bottles to the tiny icebox in the corner. The food inside was less than appetising, but he ate what he could find without hesitation.  
  
The beer bottle his father was holding tumbled to the floor, it's contents creating a shiny puddle on the dirt-caked floor. Seconds later, the undeniable sounds of snores were heard from the large man. Dally studied the back of his father's balding head, the contempt plain on his face. Bill Winston was fat, old and ugly, the top of his round dirty head thinly covered in muddy brown hair. His eyes were small and rat-like and brown, his skin tinged red from drinking.  
  
The door to the apartment opened. Dally watched his mother walk in, finding it ironic that she didn't notice him. Though it had been nearly a month since he had last bathed, he was probably the cleanest thing in the room. His mother was a slim woman, with the dark complexion and eye colour of a Mexican. Her petite figure picked it's way delicately through the grim, complaining loudly to her sleeping husband about the mess. Finally noticing that he wasn't listening she threw up her hands in disgust and stomped to the bedroom.  
  
Dally picked up a dirty spoon off the ground, and wiped it clean with his sleeve. Gazing intently at his distorted reflection, he tried to find some sort of resemblance to his parents in him. Ice-blue eyes, blond hair, and pale skin were all he saw. Dally looked away, satisfied that there was no likeness in him to either of his parents.  
  
The bedroom door slammed loudly making him drop the spoon. Dally looked up, startled at the noise. He was surprised when suddenly a young, heavily made up woman tore from the bedroom to the door. The bedroom door was wrenched open and his mother appeared, shouting angrily at the girl.  
  
"Whore! You show your ugly face around here again and I'll tear your eyes out!" Dally flinched, as the door slammed behind the girl, waking his father at last. Obviously his father had been cheating. Dally swore under his breath. He'd picked a bad time to come home after all. Dally was hit with the sudden stench of smoke and he shuddered. He was a smoker, but that didn't mean he had to like it. He'd hated tobacco from the moment he'd tried it, and his unwilling addiction to it only made him hate it even more. Dallas glanced up at his mother, who was busy blowing smoke in his direction. Her dyed blonde hair fell around a dark, lined face, which was almost as heavily made up as the whore's. The roots of her dark hair were almost two inches long, and her pink lipstick looked unnaturally bright in her tanned face.  
  
'My mother, the Mexican beauty,' Dally thought sarcastically. Her eyes focused on him and she seemed to swell slightly.  
  
"What the fuck are you doing here?" she hissed. Her brown eyes glinted in the harsh light. Across the room his father swore as he discovered his spilled beer.  
  
Dally smirked. "An' how are you, mother dearest?" he asked mildly.  
  
"You fucking bastard! Get outta my house!" she shrieked, throwing her cigarette down.  
  
"I'm gonna stay…" he paused, as his father made an offended noise.  
  
"Now hold on Marella." His father stood, swaying drunkenly. He pointed a pudgy finger at his wife and said loudly, "It's my house too. I ain't goin' nowhere."  
  
"Not you, you ass!" Marella glared furiously at her husband. "Him!" she yelled pointing her own finger at her son.  
  
"Dallas? What the fuck are you doing here?" his father stupidly echoed his mother's words.  
  
"Was going to stay for the night," Dally replied. He made his way to the couch on the other side of the room. He dropped down heavily on the old piece of furniture. His father made a move towards him, but stopped when his wife rounded on him.  
  
"You cheating scum! How dare you!" she screamed. She wheeled back and slapped him with all her might. Angrily, Dally's father grabbed her arm.  
  
"You're the cheat you little bitch!" he snapped. Marella stiffened.  
  
"I ain't never cheated," she said hotly.  
  
"You little lying bitch! There's your proof right there!" And Dally found the finger pointed at him again. Annoyed, he turned his back to his fighting parents, burying his face in his jacket to muffle the noise.  
  
"Crazy, they're both crazy," he murmured, repeating the words until he was too tired to be angry. Slowly his parents' voices drifted as he dozed, then slipped into a light sleep. 


	11. Chapter 11

1 Slashed Tires Chapter 11  
  
A/N: Am truly sorry. Have had heinous writer's block and am severely stressed from exams. Apologize profusely.  
  
P.S. Thank you thank you thank you for the reviews. LURV YOU ALL!!!!  
  
P.P.S. What's a manga? Jus curious.  
  
P.P.P.S. Was in silly mood when wrote this. Apologize for any stupidity.  
  
P.P.P.P.S. The word with the little star thing beside it? Yeah, well spellcheck said it didn't exist so hunted through 3 dictionaries thinking that self was insane for making up words until realised that had spelt it wrong. Just had to share that with you all so you'll know the depths of pain out of which self created story.  
  
Rated pg 13-somewhere below R for bad bad bad words. Just like the first 10 chapters.  
  
~  
  
Dally woke feeling like he hadn't slept at all. His body ached and his ears were filled with a strange rushing sound. He blinked wearily and looked around. He was in a tiny, dark, smelly, dusty place. Dallas jerked awake. Slowly, Dally felt the panic rise in him, realising that he recognised nothing around him.  
  
'Oh my god. Oh MY god. Where AM I?!' Spotting a tiny glint of light above him, Dally struggled to sit up. He pushed desperately at the walls around him, finally lurching to his feet and blinking in the sudden light…  
  
He was behind the couch.  
  
Sheepishly Daly slid out from behind the ratty piece of furniture, feeling as if he could punch himself. In the grey light Dally recognised his parents' apartment. Thanking his lucky stars that he'd awoke first, Dally hurried for the door, detouring at the bathroom.  
  
Once outside Dally realised why the light was so grey…it was hardly 6 in the morning. Dally rubbed his eyes, wishing fervently* that he had slept longer…no way in hell would his parents be up before 10. Dally walked slowly down the street, wondering what there was to do at 6 in the morning. His mind turned to Ponyboy and Johnny, and he remembered suddenly the Soda- note. Digging in his pocket, he found the crisp white envelope with the word 'Ponyboy' on it. Satisfied he still had it, Dallas set off at a much more energetic pace. It was then he noticed the cop car. It was cruising slowly down the street after him. Dally frowned at it, wondering who the hell was up at 5 in the morning, driving around. He set off down the street occasionally glancing back at the car. Five blocks later it was still there, still inching along after him. Pretending to suddenly have forgotten something, Dally stopped, whirled around, and hurried back the way he had come. A block later he glanced back and swore. The car was still there. They were following him. 'Damn fuzz,' Dally thought, flipping off the car. There was no way he was going to be able to visit Johnny or Pony now.  
  
He walked around aimlessly for the better part of an hour before finding an open diner/bar. Dally bought himself a coffee, mentally kicking himself for not stealing money from his parents when he'd had the chance. He sat down at one of the empty booths with his drink, contemplating the different ways he could have ended up behind the couch.  
  
Slowly the caffeine infiltrated his body, and his brain began to wake up. Mentally he retraced his steps from the night before. He'd fallen asleep, but been woken up several times by his parents' screaming fights. Finally, in a fit of sleep-drunken anger, he'd yelled at them to "shut the fuck up", receiving for his efforts a black eye, split lip, and several more bruises before he'd crawled behind the couch to get away and to get some sleep.  
  
"Right," Dally said to himself wearily, "mystery solved."  
  
"Did you want anythin' else there?" Dally jerked around, realising that someone was talking to him. He looked up startled at somewhat familiar person. Slowly his brain began to catch up and he realised that the questioning face of the waitress was Two-Bit's mother.  
  
"Glory! Dallas Winston!" She cried suddenly. "What are you doin' here at this ungodly hour, and what-" here she gasped "what on EARTH happened to you?" Before he knew what was happening, Dally found himself behind the serving counter, some sort of liquid being dabbed on his face. It stung like hell and he pulled away, wincing involuntarily. Mrs. Matthews was still staring at him, shaking her head and making disapproving noises. Dally stared back, wondering what had brought on this sudden motherly attitude. Usually Two-Bit's mother was as cool and laid back as Two-Bit himself. Suddenly Dally realised that he hadn't said a word to her yet. He gave her a wan smile.  
  
"Good morning Mrs. Matthews," he said for lack of anything better to say. She looked at him strangely.  
  
"Did you get jumped too?" She asked abruptly. Dally blinked surprised.  
  
"Um, sort of…" he replied, remembering the police. "Whadaya mean 'too'?"  
  
At that moment the door swung open, and Two-Bit jogged in with the paper. One eye was blackened and he had a cut on the edge of his lip. He slapped the paper down on the counter and seated himself on a stool.  
  
"Hey ma, how 'bout givin' your only son some food for deliverin' your paper…good god! Dallas?! What the fuck happened to you!" Two-Bit was staring openly at Dally.  
  
"I might ask you that," Dally replied swiftly, motioning at Two-Bit's eye.  
  
"I got jumped by the damn Socs. Wasn't no big deal, Darry got there in time to help. Now what the hell happened to you?" Two-Bit's good eye had never left Dally, and the look of devastation on his face was beginning to make Dallas uncomfortable.  
  
"Glory, do I really look that bad?" he asked lightly. Two-Bit raised his eyebrows, and Mrs. Matthews silently handed him a mirror before bustling over to help another customer.  
  
Dally glanced at his reflection and nearly dropped the mirror. His black eye was a dark bluish colour, and purple-yellow bruises covered nearly his entire face. His hair was streaked with dirt and dust and his lips and one side of his face was caked in blood.  
  
"You look like fucking hell." Two-Bit declared, much louder than needed.  
  
"Shuudurp," Dally mumbled grouchily. He FELT like hell. He also felt like punching something. Or someBODY. Or Two-Bit.  
  
"God man, you look like 20 Socs jumped you all at once! Hell, I know I been jumped but I don't look half as bad…or half as half as bad as you do. You look really really bad. Really-"  
  
"God, shut UP!" Dally groaned as he lurched off the stool. He had to do something. The coffee had successfully woken him up and now he was buzzing with unused energy. Wordlessly he slid out of the diner, Two-Bit tailing him, still blithering in awe of how Dally looked.  
  
A/N: Know bad place to end it but can't think of anything else. By the way, if any of you notice that I missed a few details I'm sorry. Just read The Outsiders again and I screwed up a bit. Sorry y'all. 


	12. Chapter 12

1 Slashed Tires Chapter 12  
  
A/N: Sorry if this chapter sucks, I wrote it between exams.  
  
P.S. Thank you all for such kind reviews! V. thankful, but am undeserving.  
  
P.P.S. I dunno, I think Darry's smart, so he uses big words in my fic.  
  
P.P.P.S. Sorry if it's hard to follow.  
  
~  
  
Dally stormed into the Curtis house, Two-Bit right behind him. Soda looked up from his breakfast, startled by the sudden appearance of his two friends. His jaw dropped as his ocean blue eyes took in the sight before him.  
  
"Holy crap! Dallas, what happened?"  
  
Dally glared down at the blond teen, who was still openly staring, his eyes wide, a spoon held halfway to his mouth.  
  
"See?" yelped Two-Bit triumphantly. "I told you that you looked like hell Dally."  
  
"Soda, this ass is driving me crazy," Dally said through clenched teeth. "Will you do something to shut him up before I crack his head open!" Dally paused, then as an afterthought added: "Please." Soda dropped the spoon and goggled at Dally in exaggerated shock. He looked at Two-Bit, then back at Dally, shook his head, and stuck a finger in his ear.  
  
"Say again Dallas, I swear I heard you say please." Two-Bit laughed wildly, looping over to pat Soda on the back. Dally dropped into a chair and groaned softly in defeat.  
  
"Taught him that word yesterday." Two-Bit smirked as Dally sat up quickly in his chair, a look of alarm passing over his face.  
  
Soda peered at Dally, intrigued. "Taught him how?" Was Two-Bit responsible for how Dally looked?  
  
Before either Two-Bit or Dally could answer a sharp ringing cut through the air. A second later, the boys heard Darry's familiar holler.  
  
"I got it!" Darry ambled into the room, clutching the phone in both hands. He nodded at Two-Bit, raised his eyebrows over Dally's appearance, and patted Soda on the head. Soda leapt to his feet mouthing "Who is it?" to his brother. Darry waved him off, almost tripping over the phone cord in his efforts to get away.  
  
"Yes this is he." Darry's fave twisted for a split second into a look of distaste before resuming its usual blank, tough expression. "Oh, hello officer." Darry shoved once more at Soda, who had grabbed Darry's arm roughly at these words. Glaring at his brother, Darry made his way back to the living room. "No, we haven't heard from them."  
  
Dally made a face. He'd almost been able to forget about Ponyboy and Johnny with Two-Bit rambling in his ear about how he looked. Now Soda was gazing at him with pleading eyes, begging without words for Dally to tell the whereabouts of his younger brother. Two-Bit shifted beside him, clearly uncomfortable with the tension.  
  
"So," Two-Bit started, his gaze travelling rapidly back and forth between the two teens, "did y'all hear that one about the giraffe, who goes into this bar, and, get this, he says, right, he says-" Two-Bit was suddenly cut off by loud, furious cursing from the living room. All three boys looked up as Darry came flying back into the kitchen,  
  
"So!" he seethed, his angry gaze fixed on Dally. "You couldn't tell us where they were but you had no trouble spilling your guts to the police huh!" At that moment, Dally thanked God for his horrible appearance, knowing that how he looked was the only thing that kept Darry from immediately leaping for his throat.  
  
"Where are they?" Soda gasped, wide eyes burning into Dally's.  
  
"Texas, that's what the cops said," Darry snapped.  
  
"Texas!" Two-Bit yelped. "I am so there!" He tore through the kitchen into the living room. "Where do y'all keep your suitcases?"  
  
"How dare you!" Darry was livid. "You, ASININE little…you, you…ah!" Words failing him, Darry lunged for Dally missing only as the blond scurried beneath his grasp.  
  
"It's not like that!" Dally managed to gasp, before he had to dodge another of Darry's murderous swipes.  
  
"Dally," Soda was on the verge of tears, "how could you?"  
  
"I didn't-" Dally cut himself off with a yelp, diving behind a chair, narrowly missing being crushed by Darry's grabbing hands.  
  
"Screw the suitcase!" Two-Bit was back. "Long trip…need food!" He made a dash for the fridge, tripping Darry in the process.  
  
Dally hurried behind Soda, his voice rising to a shriek, "I tell you it's NOT LIKE THAT!"  
  
"I thought you were out friend!" Soda was making no attempts to hurt him, but his eyes were bright with tears, his voice choked up.  
  
"Damn you I am!" I didn't tell nobody where them boys are!" Dally ducked as Darry tumbled over his brother trying to get at the tow-headed teen.  
  
"You liar!" Darry snarled.  
  
"Apples, love them apples," Two-Bit yelped stupidly.  
  
"YES!" Dally shouted, raising a fist in triumph. "I AM a liar!"  
  
Darry stopped a confused look on his handsome face.  
  
"What?" Soda asked blankly, all at once he sadness vanishing from his face.  
  
"Later dudes!" Two-Bit cried, tearing out the door.  
  
"I lied to them friggin' police! Pony and Johnnycake ain't nowhere near Texas!" Dally panted.  
  
Darry's mouth worked fervently as he processed this information. "Oh," he managed finally, a sheepish smile replacing his anger.  
  
"You mean, they're safe?" Soda asked breathlessly.  
  
"For now, yeah." Dally dropped back onto a chair, relief flooding his features.  
  
Soda whooped. "Thank God!"  
  
"Yeah," Darry grimaced. "Uh, about the whole, um, asinine thing Dally, I…well, sorry."  
  
Dally gave him a small smile. "Yeah. Right." He glanced around and sighed.  
  
"Where's Two-Bit?" Soda asked suddenly. 


	13. Chapter 13

1 Slashed Tires Chapter 13  
  
Disclaimer: I forgot to do these for awhile, seeing as they serve no real purpose. If I was making money from this I would tell everyone that, but I'm not, and also, I'm betting that everyone who reads this fic has already read S.E. Hinton's book and knows who most of the characters belong to. So I am hereby declaring that no more disclaimers shall be written on this fic. *takes a bow*  
  
Rated Pg-13 like the rest of this fic because I write bad words (sorry)  
  
A/N: Thank you for reviewing, I lurv you all. This chapter is a little slow (apologies), and mostly about Soda.  
  
P.S. (In response to a review from awhile ago) I wish I could write slash cuz everyone reviews that, even if it's to flame it. Unfortunately I keep getting the giggles writing romance, so I'd better just stick to really awful sexual innuendoes.  
  
The story (finally! I'll have to stop A/Ning so much!):  
  
~  
  
The afternoon was warm for fall. In fact it was downright HOT. Steve stared up sleepily through half-open eyes at the cloudless blue sky from where he was lying flat on his back. He could hear Two-Bit humming tunelessly to the radio and he smiled in spite of himself. Steve's grin broadened and he chuckled softly remembering how he and Soda had found the wise-cracking greaser sitting on the curb with an armful of apples, trying to find Texas on a map of Oklahoma.  
  
"What an ass," Steve murmured almost affectionately. He propped himself up on one elbow and glanced over to where his happy-go-lucky best friend sat in unusual silence.  
  
"Hey Sodapop, cat got your tongue?" Soda dragged his gaze reluctantly from the ant he had been studying. His eyes focused on where Steve was lying in the dirt in front of the Curtis' house. He tried a smile, and shrugged.  
  
"Just tired, I guess."  
  
Steve sighed. He wasn't fooled. He heaved himself from the ground and plunked himself beside his best friend on the steps. "I ain't that dumb Soda. If you're missing your brother-" Soda sharp intake of breath made Steve shut up. For awhile the two greasers sat, saying nothing, listening to the faint sounds of the radio inside.  
  
"It's not just that," Soda said suddenly. Steve looked at him questioningly. Soda stared at the ground, prodding a rock with the toe of his tennis shoe. "It's Sandy," he said finally. Beside him Steve's mouth curved into a silent 'o' of understanding.  
  
"Trouble with your girl, huh?" Soda made a choking noise, but nodded  
  
"Except-" his voice cracked, "except I don't think she's my girl anymore." He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand.  
  
Steve let the breath whoosh out of him and he leaned back against the rail. He stared at Soda, racking his brains for something comforting to say. But Soda wasn't finished.  
  
"She's gone. She went to Florida to live with her Grandmother."  
  
"God man WHY?" Steve burst out. "You guys were, I mean I thought y'all were gonna get married-"  
  
"I don't know." There was a sort of quiet sadness in Soda's voice that made Steve wince. The two sat, saying nothing. A distant car rumbled to a start in the silence.  
  
"I'm sorry," Steve said finally.  
  
Soda drew a shaky breath and smiled. "I guess her parents didn't like me or something."  
  
"Well," said Steve after a moment's pause, "then they're fucking bad judged of character weren't they."  
  
Soda smiled. Granted it was forced, but it lightened the mood considerably.  
  
"DINNER!" Darry yelled not 4 feet away. Both teens groaned.  
  
"God he's loud," Steve commented, as they stretched sending Soda into a fit of laughter.  
  
"You ain't kiddin'." He smirked. "Darry, what're we eatin'?"  
  
Steve watched his friend bound back into the house, a regular ball of energy as usual, amazed at the difference in the other's attitude. Soda turned and beckoned him with one hand, before tearing into the house. Steve followed slowly, suddenly realizing that maybe his friend had more problems than he'd first believed. 


	14. Chapter 14

1 Slashed Tires Chapter 14  
  
A/N: No more writers' block! Hopefully it won't come back.  
  
Darry gazed out at the sunset, weariness clouding his features. A small, almost inaudible sigh escaped his lips, as a painful thought wormed its way into his consciousness: 'Ponyboy woulda enjoyed that one.'  
  
Darry rubbed his eyes, feeling like all the strength had gone out of him. He wondered for a minute whether Ponyboy had seen the sunset, and if it had been as pretty where he was as it was from the Curtis' back steps. Dimly he was aware that Soda and Dally were engaged in a vicious verbal fight; Soda was desperate to know where Pony and Johnny were hiding, but Dally still wasn't telling. Darry let them fight awhile, not interested in involving himself. Then he heard the telltale sign of an argument going to waste.  
  
"Tell me!" Soda shouted, stamping his foot in annoyance.  
  
"No!" Dally's tone matched Soda's in both volume and anger.  
  
"Yes!"  
  
"No!"  
  
"YES!"  
  
Darry bit back a groan, heaved himself up and pushed open the screen door.  
  
"Will you two shut the hell up?" he snapped, his voice reverberating through the tiny house. Both boys fell silent. Darry turned back around looking over the darkening sky.  
  
Then he heard Dally's voice, quiet, but still burning with anger: "No."  
  
And they were off.  
  
"Why can't you tell me?" Soda demanded, a temporary lapse in his chorus of 'yes's.  
  
"How many friggin' times have I told you, it's better for them if nobody knows!" Darry snorted; it wasn't even enough of an answer to satisfy him, let alone Soda.  
  
"But YOU know where they are." Darry glanced back at the two arguing boys. He was almost as frustrated as they were, having to listen to this argument over and over and over…  
  
"THEY wouldn't even know where they are if I hadn't told 'em. They asked me, I gave 'em a place to go! Next time they kill a Soc, maybe they'll ask you!"  
  
Dally stomped out of the room, through the kitchen, wrenched open the screen door and nearly ran straight into Darry. He backed up and glared at the taller man.  
  
"You gonna start on me too?" he demanded. A sudden light bulb went off in his head; he remembered a faint, sweet voice, snapping at Ponyboy after he'd stormed off, annoyed that Johnny had interfered…and then the fight with Tim.  
  
'God how long ago was that?' he thought startled. He'd lost all track of time.  
  
"I ain't gonna 'start' on you Dally. But I gotta side with Soda. C'mon we're his brothers! We're closer to Pony than you are anyway, we wouldn't hurt him-"  
  
2 "It's not like I'm out to get him, and I'm as close to Johnny as either you or Soda, so you can shut your trap Darrel Curtis." Dally didn't realize he was shaking until Darry put a hand lightly on his arm. He jerked away, feeling furious. No one seemed to get that he really did give a damn about the kids.  
  
"Ponyboy's my friend ok? I like the kid. Got tuff hair. And I wouldn't ever, ever think of doing anything to hurt Johnny. Hell, I lo-" Dally cut himself off realizing with horror what he'd almost said. Goddamn, he thought running a hand nervously through his hair. Goddamn do I really… He shook his head. No way. He was Dallas Winston. He didn't give a fuck about no one but himself. At least, he didn't care that much. He glanced over at Darry, who was watching him closely. Dally swallowed, suddenly uncomfortably aware of how much he'd already said.  
  
"You what?" Darry asked quietly. Dally squirmed, not wanting to answer, not even sure if he meant what he'd been about to say.  
  
"I like 'em both enough to want to keep 'em alive," he said finally. "And that means I ain't telling no one where they are. I'll take it to my grave, so don't get any ideas," he added uneasily, looking pointedly at Darry's muscles.  
  
Darry smirked. He knew Dally was going to say something else, but he also knew there was no way he'd get any information out of the blond, at least not that night. He decided not to press it.  
  
"Whatever you say," Darry said mildly, shrugging and turning back to the house. Then he paused. "You gonna stay here tonight?" he asked, "or are you going to your parents' again?" he eyed Dally's bruises with disdain.  
  
Dally shrugged, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Yeah sure," he said nonchalantly.  
  
He followed Darry inside, leaving the chance to ponder his feelings for another time. 


	15. Chapter 15

Slashed Tires Chapter 15  
  
A/N: Another chapter not going anywhere in the plot. But oh well, it was fun, which means there are a lot of sexual innuendoes again. And yeah it's still Dally.  
  
P.S. Sorry if no one enjoys this. But, well, it's a transition chapter I guess.  
  
P.P.S. Ok the chapter's kinda stupid. Very sorry.  
  
~  
  
'Johnny. No way do I really lo-' Dally winced. Even in his own mind he had troubles with that damn word. 'I don't LOVE him,' he forced himself to think the word. 'And even if I did it's not in that way.' He nodded forcefully, convinced of this fact. If he was going to love someone in that way it'd be someone like Darry with his muscles or Soda with his shining hair and blue eyes-  
  
"What the hell am I thinking?!" Dally said loudly. Two-Bit glanced over, surprised at the sudden noise.  
  
"Alright Dallas?" he asked cocking an eyebrow.  
  
"I'm fine. Fine you hear? Just leave me alone." Two-Bit rolled his eyes, watching as Dally jerked himself up from the table and stomped out through the kitchen door.  
  
'Classic Dallas Winston type exit,' he thought smirking. Out loud he said: "Who jammed a stick up his ass?"  
  
Soda shrugged. He was busy pretending to eat his toast. Two-Bit sighed in annoyance; Soda'd been way too quiet for his liking the past few days.  
  
Darry spoke up. "Think he's having troubles with his love life." Both Two- Bit and Sodapop looked up, astonished, but Darry only smirked.  
  
"You mean, Sylvia? Hell, I wouldn't think Dally'd care-"  
  
"Oh, no. Not Sylvia. I think maybe it's someone who shares more of his, um, physical attributes." Darry was really enjoying himself now. He was grinning stupidly, laughter shining in his eyes.  
  
"What the hell are you talking about?" Two-Bit demanded just as Soda asked "Are you drunk man?" Darry waved the questions off and disappeared through the door after Dally.  
  
Soda shrugged again and went back to shredding his breakfast. He didn't really give a fuck about Dally's love life at the moment, not when his was so badly torn. He licked a bit of jam off his finger, sighing inwardly. He felt guilty as hell obsessing over Sandy while his brother was missing. 'And wanted for murder,' Soda reminded himself miserably.  
  
Two-Bit meanwhile was having the epiphany of a lifetime. If Soda had bothered to turn his head 15° to the right he would have seen his joking friend sitting straight up in his seat, mouth open, eyes wide and staring in horror. In his mind, the greaser was recreating the scene two mornings ago in front of Buck's house. Now that he thought about it, he was surprised that Dally hadn't beat Tim up for tickling him. And what had he been doing in the first place on top of Tim? And Darry's hint; Dally and Tim were two of a kind. Granted, they had different colour hair, different builds, different features entirely, but Two-Bit chose to overlook this fact. It was plain what Darry had meant: Dally liked a GUY. 'It all makes sense,' he mused.  
  
"Oh my God." Soda looked up, hearing his friend speak. He raised his eyebrows, finally noticing Two-Bit's expression.  
  
"What?" Soda asked unwittingly. At that moment the door opened and Tim walked in, looking pissed.  
  
"Any a yous seen Buck lately? He owes me some money-" Tim stopped, suddenly aware that Two-Bit was staring at him in a very strange way. Before he could say anything, Two-Bit burst out:  
  
"Dally's in LOVE with you!"  
  
Darry wrenched open the door, and pulled himself in, shock written all over his features. "What?" he said. "I thought he was in love with Johnny!" Soda stared openly at his brother and Two-Bit. Dally in love?! They were both crazy. Then the reality of what they were saying hit him and he lurched to his feet. Dally was queer?!  
  
"Wait just a minute now," Tim protested, visibly shaken. He turned to Two- Bit. "What the hell do you mean, 'Dally's in love with me'?" Two-Bit shook his head and pointed at Darry who raised his hands defensively.  
  
"I don't know nothing about him lovin' you Tim. But last night I coulda sworn he almost said he loved Johnny."  
  
Tim sat down heavily on a chair. "No way. That's just not possible."  
  
Two-Bit nodded soberly. "Anything's possible. I guess Dally's…" he trailed off, and everyone cringed, knowing exactly what word would end that sentence. Dallas chose this moment to make his entrance.  
  
"Forgot my jacket," he announced, marching in the kitchen door. He glared at Tim who was staring at him like he'd never seen him before. Dally frowned and took a couple of steps into the room. Darry backed up.  
  
"What now?" he said exasperated. He was tired of people looking at him like he'd grown another nose or something.  
  
"You ain't in love with no one?" Tim said abruptly. Dally smiled. He'd spent the last 15 minutes wondering how he'd answer that question if Darry ever asked, and he'd finally come up with a solution.  
  
"Of course not you moron. Who d'you think you're talking to?" It sounded perfectly believable to his ears, but one look around the room and Dally could tell no one was convinced. Finally Soda spoke up.  
  
"Dally you ain't…gay?" Dally stared at his friends, hoping he'd heard wrong. 'Am I?' he thought feeling slightly dizzy. He forced himself to look Soda in the eye. Then Dally imagined kissing him. The thought was so revolting he almost laughed.  
  
"No. I am not gay," Dally replied with utmost confidence. He shook his head vehemently. "I like girls," he added. When this got no response Dally felt his temper rise. "What – you want me to prove it? I'd fuck any girl alive! Hell I'll do it in front of y'all if you want! Just run out a grab that pretty little broad there and do it right in her pretty little convertible- " Dally froze. Then he glanced back behind him. A girl, 16 maybe, tall, Socy clothes, fancy car…red hair.  
  
'Oh hell,' he thought. 


	16. Chapter 16

1 Slashed Tires Chapter 16  
  
A/N: I know everyone uses the "complicated swirls" thing from S.E. Hinton's book, but really it is hard not too. How else could you describe Steve's hair?  
  
P.S. Thank you thank you thank you for reading! Have said this before and will probably say it again but LURV YOU ALL!  
  
~  
  
The minute Cherry stepped out of her car, she knew it was a mistake. Hostility floated around her like a cloud. She looked around frantically for a familiar face – the only person she recognized was Dallas Winston and he looked like he was about to punch her and everyone around him out. She swallowed nervously. 'Be brave,' she told herself. She nearly jumped out of her skin when a hand came down roughly on her shoulder.  
  
"What you doin' here Soc," growled a voice. Cherry turned to find herself looking up at a stocky boy, with greasy hair combed in complicated swirls. His glared down at her menacingly, his eyes burning bright with anger.  
  
Cherry backed up. "I – I'm sorry," she stuttered.  
  
"This is our side of town, you Socs got no business bein' here."  
  
Closing her eyes Cherry took a deep breath. This wasn't going well at all.  
  
"Hold up Steve." Cherry's eyes flew open. She knew that voice! Whirling around she found herself face to face with Two-Bit Matthews. Silently thanking God, she gave Two-Bit a wide smile. He returned it carefully.  
  
"Hey y'all," Two-Bit said loudly, motioning for his friends to come forward. They obeyed, surrounding Cherry, questioning looks on their faces.  
  
"This is Cherry-" Two-Bit started.  
  
"What the hell are you doing here?" Dally snapped. Cherry glared back at him, her confidence rising with her temper.  
  
"I came to warn y'all," she hissed. "Johnny killin' Bob has the Socs all in a rage. All grease is trash according to them, and are well deservin' a jumpin'. It's an all out war. I just came to warn y'all." She repeated.  
  
"We don't need your help," the angry greaser called Steve spat. Another put his hand down on Steve's shoulder, trying to calm him.  
  
"Thanks for the warnin'," the greaser said firmly, his warm blue eyes finding Cherry's. "We're not so keen on the Socs either."  
  
"No shit," Steve growled.  
  
The other gave him a look, then turned back to Cherry. "I'm Soda," he said holding out his hand.  
  
Cherry nodded. "Ponyboy told me a lot about you." She grasped the offered hand and smiled back at the handsome greaser.  
  
Another greaser spoke up. "Bet you 10 bucks this all ends in a rumble." Cherry glanced toward him. He was tall, with dark greasy hair, and a look about him that spelled trouble. No doubt about it this was a genuine hood. No one took his bet.  
  
"I'm Tim," the greaser said, nodding at Cherry, but he didn't offer his hand, and the look in his eyes was neither warm nor pleasant.  
  
"Please to meet you," she replied feeling awkward and formal. Nervously she fiddled with a piece of her long hair. "I can help y'all if you want," she blurted out suddenly.  
  
Two-Bit raised his eyebrows and Dally snorted. "An' how is a Soc like you gonna help us?"  
  
Cherry raised her chin defiantly, glaring at Dally straight in the eye. He smirked and met her gaze evenly, taking a few steps towards her. Cherry was torn between the instinct to run as fast as her legs would carry her away from him, and the sudden inexplicable urge to throw herself at Dally and kiss him. 'Damn him,' she thought angrily, her heart pounding. "I know a lot of Socs. And a lot of Bob's friends. I can give y'all information." She kept her voice was steady and calm.  
  
"Like a spy huh?" Two-Bit grinned. Cherry gave him a small smile.  
  
"I guess so."  
  
"We don't take charity," Steve glared stonily at the girl, arms folded across his chest.  
  
"It's not charity," she protested.  
  
"Why would you want to help us? You're a Soc clear through, that's plain to see," said a tall greaser. He was built like a football player, strong arms and chest lined with muscles, and he was the only greaser Cherry had ever seen without long hair.  
  
"It was my boyfriend-" she stopped. The pain of losing Bob cut through her thoughts, making her heart ache. She took a breath and started again. "If I hadn't hung around Johnny and Ponyboy, Bob and his friends wouldn't have attacked them," she stated carefully, ignoring the stab of longing that pierced her heart at the word 'Bob'. "It's part my fault what happened." For a minute nobody said a thing. Then the tall greaser shrugged.  
  
"You want to help, go ahead. I'm Darry by the way," he added. Cherry smiled at him shakily, noting the way the other greasers accepted what he said without argument. Clearly this marked him as the leader.  
  
Dally shook his head. "It might be dangerous. A popular Soc like you, they're gonna know something's up if you keep comin' over here. And you bein' a girl, you'd be easy to take out." The other greaser's looked at him in surprise. Was there an actual note of concern in Dally's voice?  
  
Cherry glared at him. "I can take care of myself. It's you who'd better watch it," she snapped.  
  
"Ooh, Dallas," Two-Bit teased. Dally shoved him lightly. The greasers scattered, the confrontation over. Steve scowled at Cherry before turning to Soda, saying loudly: "I don't trust no Soc to help us. Especially not the dead kid's girl." Cherry resisted the urge to flinch, and headed back toward her car. Only when she'd opened the door did she notice that Dally had followed her. She looked at him questioningly. Dallas put his hands on the edge of the cherry red Stingray, looking over the car, admiration plain on his face.  
  
"Tuff car," he informed her, and she smiled thinly.  
  
"Thank you." Cherry slid behind the wheel.  
  
The greaser looked up, caught her eye and smirked. "Sure," he said, nodding at her like a noble. Like he'd done her a goddamn favour by complimenting her car. Cherry wanted to slap him.  
  
"Did you want something?" she asked through clenched teeth.  
  
"Yeah," Dally rubbed his arm, suddenly regretting that he hadn't made himself look a little more presentable and less…well, beat up. "I was thinkin', maybe you and I could head up to the Dingo for a coke, you know, now that you're helping us and all. My treat," he added. For a minute Cherry looked like she might accept. She certainly wanted to.  
  
'Don't you dare fall for him girl,' she thought viciously. Lifting her chin, she gazed down her button nose at him. "Thank you for the offer, Dallas," she said stiffly. "But I rather think you should go to hell instead." She twisted the key violently, and the car roared to life. Cherry caught one glimpse of Dally's expression, surprise mixed with respect and a touch of disappointment before she was whisked away, her hair flying in the wind, the sound of greaser laughter swirling around her. 


	17. Chapter 17

1 Slashed Tires Chapter 17  
  
A/N: For those of you who don't know, Angela and Curly are Tim's younger brother and sister.  
  
P.S. Personally I think that this chapter is a little slow and weird.  
  
~  
  
Dally absently watched Soda and Steve play cards. Soda was losing, even though he was cheating. Come to think of it, Soda really sucked at cards. He turned away from the game, sighing with boredom. His eyes registered Two- Bit, sitting across from him. Two-Bit looked up, saw Dally and shook his head, laughing softly to himself. 'Stupid ass,' Dally thought for what felt like the fiftieth time that day. Dally ran a hand through his hair, marveling at how smooth it felt. Darry had flatly refused to have him in his house if Dally didn't take a shower first. Dallas agreed without arguing; his ego was somewhat wounded after his encounter with the redheaded Soc. His confidence had diminished further when he'd had to ask Darry for help figuring out how to take a shower. His face burning he'd accepted the towel from a laughing Darry, frantically trying to remember which soap he was supposed to use, and how to turn on the water. But the final blow had come when Darry had lent him some clothes. The shirt had hung down halfway to his knees, and he'd had to borrow jeans from Soda, which were still in constant danger of falling down. Darry had commented on how he looked like a little kid dressed up in his big brother's clothes while Soda had jokingly asked Dally if he'd grown above 4 feet yet. Dally had been too embarrassed to do more than throw a few swear words at the brothers.  
  
Now he simply glowered back at Two-Bit who smirked and said loudly: "That Cherry's one good lookin' broad. Maybe I should ask her out?" Dally glared once more at Two-Bit. The guy was really pushing it.  
  
Dally lifted himself out of the chair and brushed past the wise-cracker out the door muttering: "Going to have a smoke."  
  
"You sure you want to go out in public wearing those clothes?" Two-Bit called, and Dally answered with an automatic: "Fuck you."  
  
Outside night had fallen. The air was cool and a brisk wind had picked up. Dally lit his cigarette, wondering miserably why he'd even bothered to ask Cherry out. 'At least they don't think I'm gay no more,' he thought smirking slightly.  
  
Darry leaned on the screen door watching Dally try to blow a smoke ring. "You really can't go out in those clothes Dallas," he said, making the blond jump. Dallas glanced back at Darry. "Whatsit to you," he growled. Darry shrugged.  
  
"You can borrow some of Pony's clothes-"  
  
"Abso-fucking-lutely not!"  
  
"Fine. Go out looking like a moron then," Darry snapped turning away from the door. "Goddamn mother fucking idiot."  
  
Dally sighed grinding out his cigarette. He closed his eyes searching for the memory of Cherry driving away, her hair fanning out behind her like a veil. It stuck in his mind; it was such a vivid preservation he could swear he heard the sound of her car roaring down the streets. Dally frowned looking up as the noise got louder. That was no memory. He waited, listening to the sound of the approaching car. The car rounded the corner, it's lights flaring in the dark. Dally relaxed as the car drew up beside the Curtis house. It wasn't Cherry. The door swung open and Tim leapt out of the car.  
  
"See you got some new tires," Dally commented, vaguely aware that he was being an annoying bastard.  
  
"Fuck it Dallas, not in the mood." Tim looked down, his brow furrowing. "Did you shrink or somethin'?"  
  
Darry appeared again at the door. "What's going on?" he demanded, a frown forming on his face.  
  
"Some Soc came around, jumped Curly. Theys both got picked up by the fuzz."  
  
Dally snorted. "So?"  
  
Tim ignored him. "Angela was with the kid – turns out some Socs nabbed her. Dragged her off in their car when the cops came." Tim slid past Dally into the house, looking madder than heck. Darry and Dallas followed him into the living room. "That's going too far, dragging the girls into it," Tim ranted. "Me and my boys are planning on goin' down to one of their social clubs – the one the guy who jumped Curly belonged to." He paused then swung around to face Darry. "We could use your help," he added.  
  
"What's happening?" Steve asked. Soda took the opportunity to switch his 3 of clubs for Steve's ace of hearts.  
  
"The Socs nabbed Angela," Darry said grimly. Tim swore softly. Dally looked at his friend almost with pity; he knew how protective Tim was of his sister.  
  
Two-Bit stood up, his eyes wide. "But she's a girl! What would they want with…" he fell silent a look of horror appearing on his face. An image of his innocent kid sister flashed before his eyes and he shuddered.  
  
Steve watched Two-Bit and Tim closely. He had no siblings; the closest he'd come to those feelings of protectiveness was with Johnny. But he knew about anger. And he was definitely feeling some of that for the Socs.  
  
"Sure we'll help you out," Soda was saying. "When are you goin'?"  
  
"Now," Tim replied. "My gang's back at my place waiting-"  
  
"Now? Like this minute?" Dally interrupted.  
  
Tim rounded on him. "Yeah. I'd like to see her back alive Dallas." 


	18. Chapter 18

Slashed Tires Chapter 1...8  
  
Rated pg-13 for whadayamercall'ems  
  
A/N: The rich are very rich. And I don't have any idea what social clubs use as names.  
  
~  
  
Golden light flooded the room, sparkling off the freshly waxed deep mahogany floors and showing off the bright hue of the beautiful oriental carpet. Velvet couches of the deepest green lined the comfortable yet expensive room, and a dusty grand piano stood in the corner. Images of distinguished old men with severe profiles gazed disapprovingly down on the gathered group of well-dressed youngsters. The assemblage of immaculately groomed teens spoke in well-mannered voices, fake laughter ringing through the air, stiff smiles plastered on faces, cutting insults hissed in low undertones. They spoke of politics, of art, of whose-father-bought-the-most-expensive-wine (and how to get at it). They commiserated over the weather (so much better in Florida, where nearly all had vacationed to), but mostly they talked of the horrible fiends that lived on the other side of the city. These hooligans provided countless hours of discussion among the youths. All in all, it was a very  
successful party that took place inside The Diamond Boulevard Youth Social Club (DBYSC).  
  
Cherry nodded and smiled at what was probably the 100^th unfamiliar face she had met that day. She raised a hand to her mouth, barely disguising an inevitable yawn. She had only been at the party for an hour and already she was bored nearly to tears. She let her required date, Nathaniel Jacobs, lead her to the "snack" table where hors d'oeuvres were laid out on silver platters. Smiling, she accepted an escargot, mentally kicking herself for insisting that she associate only with refined folk in a polished environment. The thought that she could have been having coke at the Dingo with Dallas Winston nearly made her run from the club. But Cherry was stubborn. Holding her head high she told herself firmly: "This is good for me." If only it weren't so boring.  
  
There was a sudden commotion at the door. A couple of boys had joined the party. With them was a pretty, unkempt girl. Her dark curls swung about as she turned her head every which way. Cherry's eyes widened as she realised that the girl was being held down by the boys. Her black-lined eyes were wide, glaring, and the smirk on her lipsticked mouth spelled "greaser" with a capital G.  
  
"What do we have here?" A tall boy with short, brown hair was moving toward the greaser girl, a cold smile on his face. He reached a hand toward the girl, stroking her cheek with one finger. Instantly she whirled and bit him. Cherry suppressed the urge to laugh, as the boy stumbled back, cursing.  
  
"Greaser trash!" he snarled, cradling his wounded hand. The girl grinned at him, baring her teeth.  
  
"Fuck you! Lemme go you stupid bastards! I ain't never done nothin' to y'all!" She kicked out, catching another boy in the knee. Cherry watched him go down. Nathaniel abandoned her, rushing to help the others hold down the greaser, who'd started kicking at the others around her.  
  
"Help!" the girl shrieked before sinking her teeth into another Soc hand. He swore. Cherry watched feeling helpless as the girl was carried, struggling, through the throng of milling Socs. "Tim!" she wailed, before disappearing through a heavy wood panelled door. The crowd buzzed with excitement. Cherry's heart pounded in her chest as she waited for her date to come back. That had certainly livened things up. She shuddered thinking what the boys might do to the poor girl.  
  
"What's going on?" Cherry demanded as Nathaniel appeared beside her. The boy grinned.  
  
"Some guys caught this little greasy chick down by they're turf. Brought her back here for some fun."  
  
Cherry was quiet. "You shouldn't hurt her. She's an innocent girl," she said finally.  
  
Nathaniel's mouth tightened. "Look, them greasers are getting more and more outta line. Someone's gotta set an example of what happens when you forget where you belong."  
  
"That's horrible!" Cherry cried furiously. Nat glared back at her.  
  
"Come on Cherry. You used to date Bob for God's sake! Don't you get it? They're the enemy-"  
  
"They're still human," Cherry replied hotly. Nathaniel shook his head.  
  
"Yeah, and you seem to be forgetting who you are too Cherry. Who're you backing here?" Nat was livid. "Let me tell you something baby - if you ain't with us, you're against us." With that, Nathaniel plastered on a practised smile and waved at someone across the room, signalling to Cherry that the discussion was over. Cherry returned the smile automatically, instantly feeling disgusted that she let herself become part of this charade.  
  
"Excuse me," she murmured. "I think I need a bit of fresh air." Her date nodded, walking away to join a nearby conversation. Cherry hurried as best she could through the crowd desperate to get away. She didn't know how long she could stand being a part of this. 


	19. Chapter 19

Slashed Tires Chapter 19  
  
A/N: I can't say much for this chapter. It's really LONG. And kinda sappy/dramatic. Meh, I'm just the writer. What do I know anyway?  
  
~  
  
Tim pulled up silently at the large building. Beside him, a gang member whistled appreciatively.  
  
"That's one huge buildin' that is," he said in awe.  
  
Tim stilled the urge to crack his head open. He was terrified (though he'd never admit it) about what those dickhead Socs might be doing to Angela. His friend complimenting the bastards only served to irritate him more.  
  
"Bet they never have to worry about not having enough space," said someone else.  
  
"Yeah, them buildings is full of empty space," Dallas remarked before Tim had a chance to start swearing. He leaned over the front seat from where he sat in the back. "Way too big with not much in them - just like them Socs' heads."  
  
Laughter and grunts of agreement followed this statement, and Tim experienced the incredibly strange feeling of being grateful to Dallas Winston.  
  
"Let's go," Tim ordered, sliding out of the car. The rest of the people followed. Behind him, he saw Darry and Two-Bit emerge from their respective cars, dragging more people with them.  
  
"This is it huh?" Darry said abruptly. He gazed up at the building, his muscles tense. Tim looked the other over and smirked. It would be one stupid Soc who took on Darry.  
  
"We gonna kick Soc ass or what?" Steve growled, moving forward, his face twisted angrily.  
  
Tim nodded smiling tightly. "You still got that switchblade Two-Bit?" The greaser flicked it out, swallowing nervously. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins, and he shifted, tense. Sweat trickled down his back under his heavy leather jacket. He hadn't had time to down anything. It had been a long time since he'd fought without being high.  
  
Tim glanced back at Darry. "You got a blade in case?" Darry nodded, that heavy, silent gaze fixed on Tim. An odd sense of calm had settled on him, the scene seemingly unreal. No nervousness. No fear. He was superman after all, and those Socs didn't stand a chance.  
  
"I don't have anything," Soda piped up. His gaze flicked from Darry to Tim to Two-Bit, his own feelings changing as he took in the different moods. One minute he was sure nothing much would happen, the next he was feeling eager to get in and kick Soc butt, then he was terrified that someone would get hurt. His mind was a whirlwind of activity, always feeling as if there was something important he'd forgot, but he had no idea what it was.  
  
"I got an extra," Steve said, handing it over quickly. His hands were shaking. He wanted in that building. Those stupid Socs thought they could run all over them did they? Thought they'd get away with anything? He'd prove `em wrong. He'd show them no one, especially not any Goddamn Soc, could mess with a greaser and come up with nothing to show for it. He'd show them all.  
  
"Anyone else?" Tim's eyes scanned the crowd. He met every greaser's eyes, saw their fear, their anticipation, their uncertainty. He smiled, his lips twisting in a cruel, almost satanic smirk. He felt a rush; these greasers were his army, and he was their commander. He was in charge here.  
  
"Well then, let's kick ass," Dally's voice was light and laughing. His blue eyes danced merrily in the dim light. `Fun!' a voice inside him squealed. Hell, this was all what life was for. He grinned demonically at Tim. Money had no advantage here. The greasers were ready to fight. The Socs would be taken by surprise. For once, the greasers had the upper hand. Unable to help himself, he laughed out loud.  
  
Tim watched Dallas, thinking mildly that his friend was crazy. He lit a cigarette and shifted in front of the greasers, leading them through the wrought iron gate, across the well-manicured lawns, and up the clean gray cement. Tim flicked his ashes disdainfully at the welcome mat. Slowly, he reached out and turned the doorknob. The door swung open silently on well-oiled hinges. Slowly, silently, the greasers walked down the waxed hall. Tinkling classical music filtered through a heavy wood door. Tim smiled, and tossed away the remainders of his cigarette. "Party time," he murmured. The door opened, and a sandy-haired Soc peeked through. "Cherry? Where'd ya-" he froze mid-sentence, his gray eyes focusing on the band of greasers in front of him. He stared openly at Tim his eyes widening. Tim stared back at him, silently studying the narrowing pupils in the Socs eyes. He breathed in, the tangy scent of fear foremost in the air.  
  
It lasted only a moment, but it felt like forever. Finally, Nathaniel resumed his breathing. He let out a frightened squeak then opened his mouth and yelled. "GREASER! Grease-" his voice choked off as the vicious man in front of him reached out, his hands gripping the front of Nathaniel's expensive madras shirt. One large hand clamped over his mouth, and Nathaniel found himself staring up into the most frighteningly angry eyes he'd ever seen. All around them the greasers poured in, pushing past Nat through the oak door, their leather jackets creaking, the musk of their hair oil filling his nostrils. He struggled uselessly against the iron grip of the greaser, the black orbs gazing down at him, a mad smirk slowly forming across the thin lips. He heard the yells of surprise from his friends behind him and the frightened screams of the girls before he was hit savagely over the head.  
  
The Soc went down in a heap at Tim's feet. Tim hesitated, his gaze drawn into the well-lit room. He watched as Two-Bit dove through the crowd, sweating heavily, swinging his fists, not caring who he hit. He watched when Darry punched out a dark haired Soc, hurling him into his friend. He saw Soda grab the punch bowl, dumping it over a group of shrieking Socs, then standing looking confused as if he didn't understand why he'd done that. Soda went down, caught in his moment of doubt by a well-built boy. Tim watched some Soc ram his fist into Steve's stomach, the boy yelping in pain before retaliating, kicking the Soc in the shin. Then someone grabbed his arm, pulling him away from the fight.  
  
"Come on man, we'll fight them later," Dallas murmured, tugging Tim down the hall. Only then did Tim remember that he was looking for his little sister. Resentment and fury crashed down on him in a new wave, urged on by a stab of guilt he felt at forgetting. He gripped Dally's arm back, and the two boys hurried down the hall. They rounded a corner into a door-lined hallway ending with a glass-paneled door, opened to the cool night air.  
  
"You take the right, I'll take the left," Tim said, when suddenly a lithe figure appeared at end of the hallway. The girl hurried down the hall, an expression of alarm on her face.  
  
"What's going on?" she asked, her voice frightened. Dally realized suddenly that the girl was Cherry. She stared questioningly at him before turning back down the hall. Without thinking Dallas reached out and grabbed her arm.  
  
"You can't go back there," he said desperately. "It's not safe..." His voice trailed off as his eyes met Tim's. The other was staring at him in unbridled rage; obviously Tim wasn't feeling charitable to any Soc. He didn't recognize Cherry, and probably wouldn't have cared anyway. "Tim," he started, but was cut off by Cherry.  
  
"Tim?" She whirled around to stare at the tall greaser. "That was your sister!" she breathed. Dallas darted in front of her, placing a hand on Tim.  
  
"Hear her out," he said firmly. Cherry watched the greasers puzzled. She couldn't see the force with which Dally's hand held down his friend, nor did she notice the switchblade griped in Tim's hand.  
  
Tim stopped struggling, his mind clearing slightly. All he'd felt was fury when the Soc had mentioned his sister, but he was calming now.  
  
"They brought your sister in," Cherry paused. "That's why you're here right?"  
  
Tim growled a curse, but Dallas nodded.  
  
Cherry took a deep breath. "I think I can help you, if you'll let me. I think...I know where she is."  
  
Tim breathed out, realizing that he'd been holding his breath. "Where?" he demanded, all anger at this Soc vanishing in an instant.  
  
Without a word Cherry turned and hurried the way she'd come. Tim slid out of his friend's grasp, walking briskly after the girl. Dallas trailed behind the two.  
  
She led them through the glass door, onto a wide balcony. It overlooked the gardens, moonlight glimmering off the freshly showered plants. The stone was smooth underneath their feet and the air felt cool and calming, the fresh scent of lilac dancing on the wind. Dallas glanced at Cherry unable to stop the thought that, if circumstances were different, it could have been like a romantic fairytale out here on a full moon.  
  
All too soon they were back inside, leaving the dream of lilac and moonlight. This hall was darker, the few lights harsh, not golden like the others. Cherry led them down the hall then turned, entering a door with a brass plaque on it, stating in clear bold letters: GIRLS. Tim followed ignoring the sign, but Dally couldn't help hesitating: this was no-mans land for sure. But finally his curiosity got the better of him and he hurried after the others.  
  
The fluorescent light was bright in here, burning at their eyes. Cherry turned abruptly, facing the greasers, her eyes lost in thought, head cocked to the side, listening. Tim shifted impatiently.  
  
"Well?" he demanded. Cherry shook her head, frowning.  
  
"Hush!" she said sternly. "Listen!" Dally bit back a smile, thinking again that she had to be one of the bravest girls he had ever met. Tim's hands clenched once more into fists, but he didn't move. Just to be sure, Dallas pried the switchblade from his friend's sweaty palm, sliding it safely into his own pocket.  
  
The trio waited in silence. The only sounds were Tim's harsh breathing and the steady drip, drip, drip, of a leaking tap. Dally leaned wearily against an empty stall, thinking that the girl's bathroom smelled about 10 times better than the guy's did. Cherry eyes met his and she smiled slightly. He returned it quickly, his eyes flicking to Tim's back, hoping the other hadn't caught their exchange. He studied Cherry in her long red plaid skirt and classy off-white sweater. He caught her eye again and mouthed: "You look nice." Cherry frowned in confusion, obviously not understanding him.  
  
Suddenly a muffled wail cut through the silence. Tim went rigid and Cherry glanced up startled. No one moved. They hardly dared to breathe. Then another cry, this one more distinct. Dally pushed himself off the stall and pressed his ear against the side of the wall. Tim followed suit. Another cry, and he could make it out this time.  
  
"Tim!" Angela's soft soprano cried almost desperately. Tim knew it was her, the way she tried to keep the tremble out of her voice, the way she pretended that she wasn't really in that much trouble. He swallowed hard, his own desperation rising. He had to see her. His eyes met the girl's. She was gazing down him with something like pity, but at that moment Tim couldn't care less.  
  
"Where?" he croaked. Cherry shook her head - she didn't know for sure.  
  
"I can take a guess," she said quietly. She slid past the two greasers, and out the bathroom door. Tim and Dallas followed quickly. There was only one door in this hallway. The trio rushed to it quickly. Inside was a narrow staircase, twisting up into the darkness.  
  
"Come on," Tim urged tearing up the stairs. Cherry followed, leaving Dally to trail once again. The top of the stairs opened to yet another darkened hallway lined with identical oak doors. Tim leaned back against the wall, despair written over his features. How could he have hoped to find Angela in this maze of corridors? Without thinking, Cherry took the greaser's hand squeezing it reassuringly. Dallas stared at her, surprised again at her boldness. But there was something else...startled, he realized he was jealous. He shook his head, as another of Angela's cries pierced the air. It was louder this time, more defined.  
  
Tim jerked upright and bounded down the hall with renewed energy, his footsteps echoing in the empty corridor. "Angela!" he yelled. Dallas tore after him, and clamped a hand down on his mouth.  
  
"Shuddup moron! What if there are Socs guarding her?" he hissed. Cherry and Tim looked at him startled. Neither of them had thought of that. Dally scowled and shifted, uncomfortable under their stares. "Why d'you think I wanted to come with you?" Tim shook his head then hurried down the hall, straining his ears.  
  
"Tim!" He heard it clearly. He knew exactly which door it was. Two strides down the hall and he was there. One twist of a doorknob and he was in the room. There she was, two Socs struggling to secure knots in the heavy rope binding her. There were more, he saw them out of the corner of his eye, but Tim didn't care. He bounded across the room, his hand lashing out, catching a Soc's jacket. He tossed the boy across the room. The Soc hit the wall and crashed to the floor, unconscious. The second was brought down with a quick punch to his jaw. Tim reached into his pocket; his switchblade was gone. Not caring, he ripped at the heavy rope with his fingers. Pain cut through his numb body; he was vaguely aware that there was blood on his hands. And then she was in his arms and nothing mattered. Tim cradled his sister's fragile body, hugging her to him, hearing her gasping breaths in his ear. He heard himself murmuring softly to her, calmly asking if she was alright, if they had hurt  
her. Inside he was thanking whatever was up there that she was alive. He had to blink back the sudden urge to cry as a gratitude he hadn't known he could feel filled him.  
  
Behind him Cherry watched in horror as the remaining four Socs threw themselves at Dallas. She was frozen to the spot, unable to will herself to help him. Instead she watched as one threw a punch at him, catching him in an already blackened eye, as his friend punched him hard on his bruised side. Dallas had lost all pretense of being honorable. He was hitting low at every chance he could get. He took one of them down, slamming him knee into the Soc's midsection, his fist connecting solidly with his cheek. He backed into another, digging his elbow in hard, feeling the bone break beneath him. He kicked another in the groin, jumping on the Soc's back when he fell to the floor. The last one took off, brushing past Cherry, nearly knocking her down. Anger flashed through him; Dally always hated cowards. He tore after the Soc, with every intention of bringing him down, but Cherry's hand on his arm stopped him. He twisted to look at her, bringing a sudden sharp pain to his side. He  
dropped down with a yelp, gasping lightly as the burning subsided to a dull throb. Cherry kneeled down beside him, whispering quiet words of comfort. Dally groaned softly. He was really feeling it now. His mind spinning he stared blearily at Cherry, watching the red of her hair swirl with the dark around him as everything went black. 


	20. Chapter 20

Slashed Tires Chapter 20  
  
A/N: Holy crap. How'd this thing get so freaking long? Hah, for anyone out there who cares, this was originally supposed to be a two-page short story. Hahahaha, well I guess I better wrap it up though - it's too long ...sob. Meh, it's so hard to stop...  
  
P.S. Another long one. Beware y'all!  
  
P.P.S. "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."  
  
~  
  
The Soc swung hard. Darry staggered back, a blinding pain throbbing in his head. `This has to stop,' he thought dimly. There were just too many of them. As prepared as the greasers were, they hadn't been ready for the number of Socs they now faced. A body bumped into him, and he turned tiredly, readying himself for another punch.  
  
"Darry?" Soda gasped. His face was pale and sweaty, and he was grasping desperately at his side. He groaned softly. "Darry, I think I cracked a rib-" Soda managed, before another Soc jumped on his back.  
  
Darry felt his temper rise. He'd fight if Tim still wanted him to, but no way was he letting Sodapop get any more hurt than he already was. He bounded over to where the Soc had Soda pinned. Darry wrapped his muscled arms around the smaller boy, heaving him skyward. The Soc was swearing a blue streak. Darry spun and dropped the yelling Soc into a group of fighting people. He shook the sweat from his eyes. It was getting so he could hardly tell who was grease and who was rich kid anymore. Leaning down he grasped Soda's arm firmly, pulling the boy to his feet. Soda grimaced slightly.  
  
"Thanks," he gasped, before turning back to the fight. Darry grabbed his shoulder.  
  
"No way little buddy. You get your ass back to the car. Be ready to drive us when we leave." Soda looked at him confused. The poor kid was exhausted. Darry shook him gently, hoping to wake him up some. "Get your ass outta this place ya hear? And I mean now." His brother stared dizzily up at him.  
  
"Goddamn," Two-Bit staggered up to them. "Darry, we need your help." Two-Bit was dripping sweat. He stared up at Darry, a begging look in his eyes. "Come on man," he pleaded, his voice cracking slightly. Darry gave him a slight nod, and, shoving Soda towards the door, he dove back into the crowd.  
  
He'd barely fought for two minutes before he heard it. A shrill whistle, starting low and sliding to a deafening pitch. He whirled around, catching a glimpse of the door. Tim stood, beckoning impatiently to his greasers. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he leaned back.  
  
"Move out! Greasers move out!" He yelled, his voice rising above the din. Groaning softly with relief, Darry hurried for the door, pausing once to wait for Two-Bit to catch up. The two burst into the hall, stumbling through the rest of the group out the door. Once out in the open, they parted, each hurrying for their own cars. Panting hard, Darry wrenched open the driver's door and got in. He was the first in the car and he waited, still breathing heavily for the rest his group to join him. The passenger door opened and Sodapop slid into the car, gasping and coughing, one hand still pressed to his side. Darry glanced worriedly at his brother. He opened his mouth but his attention was diverted when the others got into the car. Steve, and four other boys from Tim's gang of hoods.  
  
"Go, go, go!" One of them yelped, slamming the car door. Darry took off with a screech of his wheels. The car roared down the street, speeding past the rows of large houses, down to the greaser's side of town. The sudden scream of a police siren shattered their eardrums. Darry wondered for a split second why it had taken the fuzz so damn long, then one of the gang guys was yelling at him to stop the car. He slammed on the brake, and Tim's greasers leapt from the vehicle. They ran, feet pounding on the cement, down an alley, disappearing from view through a half-hidden door. Darry didn't wait around to see if they'd come back. He pulled quickly from the curb, the siren growing louder. He sped across town, pulling up at last in front of his house. The three boys jumped out of the car and tore up the steps to the house. Darry wrenched open the screen door, shoving through the darkened kitchen into the living room. Behind him, Steve hit the lights. Soda dashed across the room,  
tripped, then pulled himself onto the couch. Steve hurried to the middle of the floor then dropped like a rag doll, putting on an expression of vague boredom. Darry grabbed a chair, turned it around and plunked himself down. They waited in tense silence. The siren grew louder, louder, louder...then slowly, almost imperceptibly, it began to go down. The three greasers waited until it was barely audible before they deemed it safe. Almost simultaneously, they breathed out, relief flooding the room. Soda's eyes met Steve's and the two boys burst out into near-hysterical laughter.  
  
"Oh yeah!" Steve gloated, rolling onto his back. "Did we kick ass or what!" He held out his hand, palm up, and Soda slapped him five.  
  
"Yeah, but I'm just glad to be outta there alive!" Soda leaned against the side of the couch, weariness fighting with relief on his face.  
  
Darry smiled absently at the two younger boys. He stood up from his chair and ambled slowly over to the door. He gazed out into the black, his eyes searching for signs of the other cars. Finding none, he sighed and turned back toward the living room.  
  
He could hear Steve and Soda fighting playfully about who had taken down more Socs. Darry shook his head, then entered the room.  
  
"Kids stop your fightin'! That's ridiculous comparing your numbers." The two fell silent. Darry suppressed a grin, studying his nails intently. "'Sides. Y'all know I beat down more than both of you kids combined." Soda yelped in protest and Steve playfully tossed a pillow at Darry's head. Darry smiled softly, pushing the pillow away.  
  
"Okay Sodapop, lemme see that side of yours," he said seriously. Soda groaned.  
  
"Naw, Darry it's just a little bump-"  
  
"Come on, I don't want you walking around with no busted ribs or something." Soda rolled his eyes at Steve, but let Darry pry his shirt off him.  
  
Darry inspected Soda carefully. He'd probably only bruised a few ribs. There were no broken bones, that was for sure.  
  
"You'll be okay," he informed his brother.  
  
"I know, I know." Soda gave Darry a little hug. "I wuv you Dawy."  
  
Steve laughed, and Darry shoved Soda lightly, making sure not to touch his ribs.  
  
The soft rumble of a car engine made all three boys shut up. They all stumbled over each other, tearing for the door. Outside, Two-Bit and Tim's cars were pulling up by the curb. Darry smiled, relieved as Two-Bit hurried out of his car, slamming the door. At least he could walk, and his face looked okay. He bounded up the stairs, his trademark grin plastered all over his face.  
  
"Hey buddy! We're alive!" He pushed past Darry into the kitchen. "Soda! Stevie, kid let's go get wasted!" Steve laughed following Two-Bit back into the house, but Soda hesitated. He glanced at his older brother.  
  
"Keep forgetting," he said softly. "I thought Ponyboy would be..." he trailed off, shaking his head, then followed his friends. Darry sighed. They had to get the kids back. Maybe he'd try Dally again.  
  
Darry glanced back at Tim's car and had to do a double take. A tall, slim, redheaded girl was buzzing around Tim, helping him with something. Angela hurried through the gate up the steps, her dark hair bouncing prettily. Darry smiled, somewhat shaken at the sight of a Soc standing so close to his property. She looked vaguely familiar...  
  
"Dally's hurt. Need a couch," Angela's voice was like a higher, feminine version of Tim's. Hard, tough, giving no clue to her emotion. She stared at Darry with her dark, smoldering eyes, shifting impatiently from one foot to another. What she said clicked in and Darry raised his eyebrows.  
  
"Dally's hurt again?" he couldn't keep the sarcasm out of his voice, and to his surprise, Angela scowled at him.  
  
"He was helping get me outta that stupid club," she snapped. She marched past him, her nose stuck in the air. "He's out cold," she added, giving Darry a superior look. "Guy couldn't handle a couple of Socs." She opened the door to the freezer, rooting around for the ice. Darry rolled his eyes. One minute she was defending the guy, the next she was insulting him. Just like Tim. "Honestly, I think he's getting soft-"  
  
"There were four guys," a cold female voice interrupted. "All of them in good condition, and he was trying to save you!" A light-bulb went off in Darry's head as he finally placed the redhead.  
  
"Hey Cherry," he said politely, but she was too involved in a staring match with Angela to reply.  
  
"Not to mention, he had to keep an eye out for you, Ms. Soc," Tim added. He was walking slowly through the door, Dally's arm slung across his shoulder.  
  
"Come on kid, wake up," Tim groaned, shaking him slightly. "You're kinda heavy..." Tim glanced slyly up through his eyelashes at Darry. Sighing resignedly, Darry leaned forward and hefted Dally into his arms. He carried the boy through the kitchen, into the living room and dumped him onto the couch, barely missing Two-Bit.  
  
"Hey Dally ol' pal! How ya doin'? Take down many Socs? Dally? Dal - oh." Two-Bit prodded the unconscious blond with one finger. He looked up at Darry, his eyes wide. "Glory Darrel!" he breathed. "Your stench knocked him out!" Darry growled at him. Two-Bit let out an `eep' then he ducked and ran for the comfort of Sodapop.  
  
"Leave him be," Cherry was suddenly there, wrapping ice in a towel. "He's had a rough night."  
  
Darry and Tim exchanged glances. Tim smirked.  
  
"Right," he said. "Really tough for Dallas. Poor girl." Dally groaned softly, his eyelids flickering.  
  
Two-Bit snickered. "Yeah, don't worry Cherry. We'll make sure he gets right to bed. Heck, I'll even tuck the kid in-"  
  
"The hell you will, you mother-fucking bitch," Dally swore groggily, struggling to sit up. Cherry gasped a little and backed up, dropping the towel. Dallas scowled at her. "Whatsamatter? You never heard a swear word? Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, okay? Jesus. Damn bitch."  
  
Cherry closed her mouth. The first thing she'd felt was hurt. Then anger. `What gives him the right?' she thought, her temper boiling. `How dare he speak to me like that!'  
  
"Listen you ungrateful little rat!" she fairly snarled. "I know how to swear, and I've been trying to help you...I'm risking it right now just being here! I should have stayed back at the club but I wanted to make sure you'd be alright-"  
  
"That's your problem," Dally said sullenly.  
  
"You're terrible!" she exploded, the tension of the night and her fury at Bob's situation pushing her past her limit. "You immature, unreasonable, selfish, rude, spoiled brat! I've had enough of your self-obsessed attitude. I don't care if you bleed to death you rotten bastard!" She threw the ice at Dallas, making him jump slightly. "Go to hell!" She shrieked furiously, wishing that she'd taken the time to learn a few more swear words. Whirling, she stalked across the room, anger tearing through her body. Stopping at the door frame, she spun around to face Dally.  
  
"Oh before I forget," she paused. "FUCK you, Dallas Winston!" With that she turned and stomped out of the house.  
  
Silence filled the room. No one dared breathe. All eyes were fixed on Dally, and he was staring at the place where Cherry had been, the ice melting on his lap.  
  
"Well," Darry cleared his throat. "I, um, I...I guess I'd better take her home." He backed out of the room slowly, staring all the while at Dallas.  
  
"You really have a way with the ladies doncha?" Angela said slowly, her eyes wide, gazing at Dallas. She had a newfound respect for that Cherry girl. Anyone who could say those things right to Dallas Winston's face deserved respect. And maybe a medal.  
  
Dally's heart was beating so fast he was afraid if he tried to breathe normally it would burst. `Goddamn,' he thought wildly. `GODDAMN!' He should be angry. He should be embarrassed. But all he felt was a crazy sort of surprise. She'd really been worked up.  
  
"Goddamn," he said out loud, his voice barely above a whisper. "That was incredible." Two-Bit made a noise and gave him a funny look.  
  
"No shit man," Steve said slowly. "But you're not supposed to think that."  
  
Soda shook his head, eyes wide. "Man, she really...wow...God she must hate you!" Dally jerked slightly. He hadn't considered that. But, really, if she had said all those things, she must hate him. He swallowed, realizing, too late, that he really didn't want Cherry to hate him.  
  
"What do I care?" he said aloud, hoping against hope that he'd believe it when he said it didn't matter.  
  
"Maybe you should apologize," Soda said quietly. Dally whipped around, staring at him. "I mean, it could really come in handy having her around and stuff." Soda added quickly. "She said she'd spy for us, but I bet she'd not too keen on that idea now." Dally looked down. Now he felt embarrassed. He was sick of feeling embarrassed.  
  
"Okay," he said finally. "I'm apologize." Two-Bit snorted, so he added: "But I'm only doing it cause you asked. Not cause I'm sorry or anything. Cause I'm not. She had it coming." Dally looked at all of them in turn, letting them know he was seriously. "I'm not sorry."  
  
The group nodded as one, but no one, not even Dallas himself, believed it. 


	21. Chapter 21

Slashed Tires Chapter 21  
  
A/N: A short not so good chapter. Don't understand why I wrote this really.  
  
~  
  
"You've really gone and done it this time." Cherry's mouth was set in a hard thin line. "They're angry. Really angry actually. They want this settled. That last stunt you greasers pulled really set them off."  
  
Steve opened his mouth wide, a retort on the tip of his tongue. The Socs had been asking for it. They started it. It was all their fault really. Soda reached around to give him a small but vicious pinch. Annoyed, Steve cast a questioning glance at Soda, but the greaser only shook his head.  
  
"What are they saying?" Soda asked carefully, turning back to Cherry. He knew as well as Steve that the Socs had deserved it after stealing Angela. But he also knew that the best way to get Cherry to work with him was NOT to insult her kind of people. They'd gotten another chance, and he wasn't about to blow it.  
  
"They're saying..." Cherry bit her lip. She didn't really want to tell them. It would mean another fight for sure. But by the end of the day the secret would get out and they'd fight whether she told them or not.  
  
"They're saying that they want to fight it out. Them against you all in a big, um-"  
  
"Rumble?" Steve asked excitedly.  
  
"Yes. I guess so."  
  
Soda smiled as Steve let out a whoop. "Let `em come. Just let `em try," Steve ranted, whipping out a comb and drawing it in swift, curling strokes through his greasy hair. Soda laughed at his friend's exuberance.  
  
"Another one?" Two-Bit suppressed a groan. Cherry glanced sideways at him. She had a feeling the greaser really disliked fights as much as she did.  
  
Darry said nothing. It really wasn't much of a surprise. Beside him Tim was having a quiet fit. He knew well enough not to swear in front of Cherry anymore, so he had to contend himself with kicking the side of the house and muttering I-told-you-sos.  
  
Cherry sighed softly. She still wasn't quite sure why she'd come. Well, she had a reason, but she couldn't admit it, even to herself. She'd never admit to doing anything just to see some rude, stupid hood who thought less of her than he did a worm. And whom she hated (or should hate). She sighed again wondering if he'd ever even apologize.  
  
Dallas leaned back in his chair and peeked through the screen door. He could hear everything fine but he felt uncomfortable all alone in the empty house, isolated from the conversation. When Cherry had pulled up in her car, following Darry's request in spite of the argument, Soda had all but strapped him into the chair, warning him not to come out until he said he could. It was all for the best, Soda had reassured him. Just so they could find out what was going on without Cherry getting pissed at Dally and stalking off. Still, Dallas couldn't shake the feeling that he was being punished. Sent to the corner for a time-out of some sorts.  
  
He heard a dull thud; unmistakably the sound of Tim's boot meeting the side of the house. Then Cherry's voice again.  
  
"They were going to go by the Dingo and places looking for you," she was saying.  
  
`Looking for who?' Dally thought, feeling frustrated.  
  
"They want to hold a war council or whatever you do." That was sarcasm.  
  
Dally leaned back again, searching for her. She was just out of sight. Sighing exasperatedly, he pushed himself back further. She still stayed just out of view. But in the corner of his vision he could make out a trace of red hair...  
  
A crash, accompanied by a sharp yelp made the entire group start. Soda groaned inwardly as he heard Dally's trademark swearing ritual start. `Well that's probably it for talking to Cherry,' he thought ruefully. He watched the girl's face turn into a glower of recognition, and didn't make a move to stop her as she leapt to her feet.  
  
To his and everyone else's surprise she flew toward the door, opening it with a bang. `What am I doing?' she thought dazedly. `I meant to go to my car...' She started to turn, but the sight before her made her pause. Dally was sprawled on the kitchen floor, his legs tangled in a heap of smashed chair. He was looking utterly disgusted as he attempted to disengage his jeans from where it was caught by the chair leg. A giggle rose in her throat. `Be strong,' she told herself. Dallas glanced up at her, and she gave him the coldest glare she could manage.  
  
Dally swallowed. This wasn't exactly the way he'd intended to do it. But if he was ever going to say it, it had to be now.  
  
"I'm sorry." Dally's eyes gazed up timidly at her; his words were almost meek. `Oh God,' Cherry thought, and in that instant she felt her strength dissolve. Throwing her head back she burst out laughing.  
  
"You're sorry?!" She gasped wiping her dewy eyes. "You - you moron!" She couldn't stop laughing. Dally stared at her. Granted, he hadn't been exactly like himself when saying it but surely this wasn't the reaction his apology deserved.  
  
"Fine then. Be mad. I don't care." But Dally's sulky attitude only made her laugh harder. `Jesus,' he thought, feeling himself go red. `Maybe she's stoned.'  
  
"Alright Dallas," she said finally. "I don't forgive you. I'm still mad. I still think you're uncouth and mean and disgusting and rude and-" She shook her head then barreled ahead through his protests. "But I do accept your apology." Dally was quiet. There was something slightly funky about that.  
  
"That's a crap deal." Dallas wasn't one to keep his mouth shut.  
  
Cherry raised her eyebrows at him. "Would you rather I just be furious and never talk to you? Because that's what you deserve."  
  
"Hell - uh, I mean heck, you swore at me too," Dally managed to get himself out from underneath the mangled chair. He faced Cherry, his arms crossed. "Sh - her, you said a fu - um, lot more to me than I...did to you."  
  
"But you deserved it. You swore at me unprovoked."  
  
"Unprovoked?" Dally repeated.  
  
"Without me doing anything to bother you. And," Cherry continued, her voice rising, "I had helped you that night and came home with you to make sure you were alright, AND," she wasn't finished. "You were already in trouble from trying to hit on me in the first place!"  
  
Dally found himself apologizing again. Cherry gave him a swift nod. Nothing more. Then she left. Sighing, Dally leaned against the kitchen wall. `I want a cigarette,' he thought. Almost instantly, one appeared in front of him. He took the smoke, giving Sodapop a wry smile.  
  
"Word of advice," Soda told him as he lit the weed. "Never, EVER argue with a girl. You won't win." 


	22. Chapter 22

Slashed Tires Chapter 22  
  
A/N: Okay, I really tried to make this about all the greasers. But I couldn't help tailing Dallas a little. Sorry. He's just really intriguing I guess.  
  
~  
  
Tim's eyes were stony, reflecting no emotion. He stared straight ahead, not blinking. Slowly he reached in his pocket and drew out his lighter. He shook the pack of smokes in his hand, picking one and setting it between his lips. He brought the lighter up close, then flicked it, lighting the cigarette easily. His gaze never wavered. He took a slow drag off the weed, then leaned forward offering the cigarette to the dark haired boy sitting across from him. The Soc took it, setting it firmly in his mouth, taking a quick puff. Tim smiled and breathed out, smoke billowing from his mouth before disappearing into the hazy atmosphere in the bar. He accepted his cigarette from the Soc.  
  
"So," he drawled, leaning back in his chair, "what's this all about now?"  
  
"Don't play dumb," the Soc answered coolly. "You know what this," he waved a hand carelessly at the boys grouped behind him, "is all about."  
  
Tim closed his eyes, slowly breathing in the dark, sweet aroma of the weed. Behind him, he heard his boys shift anxiously. He smirked, knowing that if he looked back, they'd all be wearing identical looks of tough indifference. He resisted the urge to do so. He just knew better. You never turn your back to the enemy.  
  
"Refresh my memory," he answered finally. He thought he heard Dally snort behind him. He felt a momentary stab of annoyance - maybe the line was cliché, but it didn't look good when his own gang members laughed at him.  
  
The Soc's face darkened. "You stormed our club. You destroyed valuable and private property. You scared the hell outta our women."  
  
"You had it comin'."  
  
"One of our men was attacked," the Soc snapped. "It was revenge, takin' that whore-"  
  
Tim's eyes flew open and he stiffened, half raising himself from his chair. Quick as lightning, Darry was behind him, one hand gripping the back of his shirt where the Socs couldn't see. Slowly Tim relaxed, sinking back into his chair. The Socs were tense, gazing at their rivals with apprehension. Darry's sudden movement had thrown their confidence. The boy smirked, his dark eyes laughing cruelly. `Fuck,' Tim thought, angry with himself. He'd screwed up.  
  
"Alright. You wanna settle this thing once and for all with a rumble." Tim was sick of waiting. He wanted this thing done.  
  
The dark haired boy cleared his throat. "Yeah that's what we want. And we want it soon."  
  
Tim pulled out another cigarette. "Yeah an' how soon?"  
  
"Friday."  
  
Tim almost dropped his lighter. Friday was two days away. Shakily he lit his smoke, staring all the while at the Soc. He took a drag off the weed, thinking hard. His boys and Darry's crew were roughed up a little from the fight the night before. But those guys over in Brumly owed his gang a favour. He let the air out slowly and nodded.  
  
"Friday then," he said monotonously.  
  
"Where?"  
  
`Shit,' Tim thought. He was completely unprepared. He took another drag off his smoke, his mind running through all the possible places they could hold the rumble.  
  
"The vacant lot," he said quickly, smoke twisting out through his mouth. "Down by Grant Street. On our side."  
  
"Fine." The Soc shot it the word back like an insult, not missing a beat.  
  
"Seven-thirty."  
  
"Six."  
  
`Don't be stupid. It's too bright out at six.' Tim thought. "Seven."  
  
"Seven, then." The Soc was glaring distastefully at him. Oh, if looks could kill.  
  
"Then it's settled." Tim said.  
  
"Vacant lot. Friday," the Soc paused. "Seven." He spat it out like a swear word.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
The boys waited in silence. Behind him Dallas was shifting, and obviously. A sandy haired Soc was following his movements with his eyes. Tim resisted the urge to break Dally's nose. The guy could be so stupid sometimes.  
  
The Soc pressed his lips together studying Tim. Then slowly, slowly, he put his hand out in front of him. Tim stared at him for a minute, his nose wrinkling. Then Darry nudged him. `Shut up,' Tim thought childishly at the larger boy. He took the Socs hand, shaking it firmly. The Soc's face twisted in disgust. Then both boys let go, quickly drawing their hands back to themselves, shuddering involuntarily.  
  
"Right," the boy said, and Tim caught him wiping his hand on his jeans. The Soc stood, and his group turned ready to leave.  
  
"Bastards," one of the Socs muttered.  
  
"Fucking pansies," Dally retorted, not bothering to lower his voice. "Goddamn mother-fuckers." They probably didn't even know the meaning of the word `bastard', he thought bitterly. He knew the meaning all to well.  
  
The group stopped. One Soc glanced back, and sneering, flipped him off. Dally rolled his eyes, returning the gesture. Then they were gone, leaving the bar to old drunks, the unemployed, the recently dumped, and the greasers. The second the door closed behind them Tim leapt to his feet turning on Dallas.  
  
"What the hell is your problem!" he demanded. "It's like you suddenly `forgot' everything your supposed to do at these meetings." He stalked forward shoving Dally into the wall. "You show NOTHING," he hissed, his voice dark. "Nothing Dallas. No emotion. I don't care if they fucking recite every stupid thing you've ever done, you DON'T LET THEM KNOW they got to you. You saw how that kid was when he called Angela a whore and I got up...You can't give that to them." Tim backed off, shaking his head. "Keep your pride Dallas. You don't got nothing else."  
  
Dally stared back at Tim, his eyes narrowed. He was shaking. He would have punched the guy if he hadn't known that they needed Tim for the rumble. The thing that got him the most was that Tim was right. He glanced around him. A couple of the greasers were staring at him, but some wouldn't meet his gaze. Darry was smirking and trying to hide it. `Keep my pride huh,' he thought angrily. `Where's my pride now?'  
  
"Yes, Yoda. A Jedi shall not be angry. Anger leads to hate, hate to SUFFERING." Dallas didn't realize he'd said the words out loud until the group around him began to laugh. Tim turned and gave him a look, his eyebrows raised. `Crap,' Dallas thought frustrated. He was really ruining his rep. Two-Bit was the wise guy. He was the jail-hardened, tough, hood. Dallas rubbed his eyes wearily. It was because of Johnny really. He kept worrying. It was distracting him. He followed the group outside into the cold night. Sliding his hands into his pockets he felt the sharp edges of paper. The Soda-note. That decided him. Cops or no cops, he was going to see the kids. 


	23. Chapter 23

Slashed Tires Chapter 23  
  
A/N: A little sappy and strange. This chapter tried something else, since I need to wrap it up soon. Did more than one person's story. Anyway, the little ~ sign means that it's a different place and possibly, time than what was previously written. But y'all probably knew that already and I'm just being annoying and blithering on and on about - okay I'm stopping.  
  
P.S. It's really long.  
  
P.P.S. It's a little boring in places. Sorry.  
  
~  
  
Soda flipped himself over yet again, catching himself on the edge of the bed just in time. Frustrated, he punched the pillow beneath him. His bed had never been so uncomfortable. He sat up, squinting in the darkened room at his clock. Four-thirty a.m. And he hadn't slept a wink. Giving up of the idea of sleeping, Soda untangled himself from the sweaty pile of sheets on his bed. He tugged the cord dangling in the middle of the room, once, twice, three times. Swearing through gritted teeth, Soda gave the cord a good yank. It pulled off with a snap, and golden light flooded the room. Tossing the piece of string into a corner, Soda picked up a book. He read four sentences before throwing it down in defeat. He hated reading. He dropped down in the chair next to the old wood desk he and Ponyboy shared. Picking up a pencil, he made a small attempt to draw a person. A person with light, longish hair, and dreamy eyes. A small, but well built person. A person with a slight smile on  
his lips and a cigarette sticking out of his mouth. Soda stared at his drawing, his pencil pressing firmly on the spot where the person's straight nose would have gone. Despite his lack of artistic talent, he'd managed to recreate the one person whom he was trying not to worry about. The pencil broke under the tension, slicing a heavy dark grey line over Ponyboy's non-existent nose. Soda swore. He crumpled the paper and threw the pencil viciously across the room. He hated drawing. His gaze landed on a pile of laundry on the far corner. He could fold laundry.  
  
"I hate laundry," Soda said loudly. He scowled at the pile of jeans and T-shirts, then vindictively flipped it off. "I hate you, you stupid grey T-shirt," Soda hissed, raising himself off the chair. He stomped over to the motionless pile of cloth. "And you, you damn, dumb sock. All you socks! I hate you all." He picked up the offensive garment, considering ripping it apart with his teeth. Some distant, functioning part of his brain pondered the amusing fact that `sock' was only one letter away from `Soc'. His eyes fell on a pair of jeans, too small to be his own. `Hate you jeans,' he thought as he picked them up, wanting to hurl them across the room for no reason whatsoever. The material was heavy in his hands; they were good quality pants. The label caught Soda's eye. The bright blue stitching of the company name was interrupted by sloppy, dark, curling thread. Soda leaned his head to the side, straining his eyes to see the message: a large, wobbly-looking `PC'. Ponyboy  
Curtis. Soda sat down slowly on the bed, the jeans still in his grasp. These were no ordinary pants. They were Ponyboy's favourite jeans. Soda could remember buying them with him in some second hand department store, just a couple months ago. They had no rips, no stains. They seemed almost brand new. And Ponyboy had been so happy to find a pair of jeans that actually fit him well. He didn't even have to use a belt. Soda wondered whether his brother would ever get to wear them again. He clutched the pair of jeans to him, his throat feeling scratchy, the way it always did before he cried.  
  
"Stop it," he told himself sternly. "It's only a pair of jeans."  
  
`But they're Pony's jeans,' a little voice in him said. And then suddenly the tears had welled up in his eyes, and they were spilling over, down his cheeks, tracing patterns across the pale skin. And he was making strange noises, little pants and whimpers that threatened to turn into full-blown sobs. Soda buried his face in his brother's jeans, trying to muffle the noise of him crying. His throat hurt and his head pounded as he tried to hold it in. Then he felt a hand gently rubbing his back. Soda didn't bother to look up. He leaned to the side where he knew Darry would be.  
  
Darry stroked his younger brother's hair, saying nothing. He'd been awake all night, wondering, worrying. He'd almost managed to drift off when he heard Sodapop saying that he hated laundry. He'd watched, silent from the doorway as his brother stormed through the room, hatefully insulting his clothes. Now he held the younger boy, letting him cry and trying not to himself.  
  
They stayed that way, motionless for what seemed to be hours, Soda crying, Darry saying nothing. He said nothing while Soda sobbed hard into his shirt, drenching it with tears and misery. He said nothing when the boy's crying had dwindled to small hiccups, the tears dripping slowly and silently off the end of his nose. He said nothing when his brother began to speak, the words stumbling out of his mouth, explanations and fears and hopes. He said nothing, even, when Soda told him in his quiet, sad voice about Sandy, and how he'd wanted to marry her so bad, even now, when she'd left him. And how it felt like she'd torn a hole in his heart and how sometimes he thought he'd just die if he didn't see either Sandy or Ponyboy in the next three seconds. He said nothing and didn't cry one single tear (though he clung to his brother with the same desperation as Soda did to him). And when Soda finally fell asleep, he silently got dressed and made himself breakfast and headed off to  
work. Never once on his way to work did he stop and just cry and allow himself to wonder if Ponyboy was really all right where he was (and was he eating alright? Was he warm enough? The nights got cold this time of year). He kept that promise that he'd made to himself all those years ago. And Darry stayed strong.  
  
~  
  
Soda woke, hearing birds, and feeling the sun shining on his face. For all accounts it should have been a happy day, with such good warm weather. But all he felt was a sort of emptiness. He felt lighter, and he didn't want to cry anymore. But he didn't feel himself. He wandered around to the kitchen, picking things up and putting them back down again. Soda sat down wearily on a kitchen chair resting his head in his arms. He didn't even flinch when the screen door slammed.  
  
"Hey man." Steve sounded bored. "See you got your chair fixed."  
  
Soda turned his head to look at his friend. "Yeah, Darry threatened to tell Two-Bit that his position as wise-cracker was being threatened if Dallas didn't glue this chair back together."  
  
Steve raised his eyebrows. "And that worked?"  
  
Soda tried to grin but failed miserably. "Well, then, Darry flexed his muscles some, too." Steve laughed.  
  
Soda closed his eyes, wishing he were still asleep. His stomach rumbled but he didn't feel like making himself breakfast.  
  
"You alright?" Steve asked worriedly. "You don't look so good. Your eyes got circles under `em, and your skin is all yellowy-"  
  
"Leave off," Soda grumbled into his arm.  
  
"And you're breaking out too, you never break out. Soda, is something wrong-"  
  
"Yeah, something's wrong, you're pissing me off!" Soda yelled, jerking his head off the table. "I said `leave off' and I meant it!"  
  
Steve was quiet. "Jesus," he said finally. "You're getting to sound more like Dallas every day." Soda said nothing. Steve looked away.  
  
The two stayed silent. Steve began to twitch impatiently, his fingers drumming on the kitchen table. Soda stared at his fingers watching them move so fast they blurred together. It looked a little like Steve had twenty fingers.  
  
Steve sighed. "I didn't mean nothin' by it Soda-"  
  
"I know," Soda said softly.  
  
"I just wondered if you were okay."  
  
Soda smiled slightly. "I know. I'm sorry Steve, I just-" He held his hands up helplessly.  
  
"You're worried about Ponyboy," Steve guessed. Soda nodded.  
  
"Yeah," Soda sighed gustily.  
  
"There's something else," Steve said suddenly. "Isn't there?"  
  
"Yeah," Soda got up from his seat feeling like he weighed a million pounds. He stumbled to the fridge, reached in and grabbed the chocolate milk, which he drank straight from the carton.  
  
"Sandy's what's bothering you," Steve said knowingly.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Listen Soda, you know where she is."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"You love her."  
  
"YEAH."  
  
"You should write to her."  
  
Soda stopped. He turned quickly to face Steve.  
  
"It's easier than driving down there, and I know you wanted to," Steve added. Soda shook his head; Steve knew him too well.  
  
"Maybe I will," he mused quietly.  
  
"It's a good idea. I'm all for it!" Steve said enthusiastically.  
  
"I kinda got that bit," Soda replied dryly. He reached for an apple. "Smells like Two-Bit," he said absently and Steve laughed. Soda grinned back. He felt better already. `Why didn't I just talk to him in the first place?' he wondered, mentally kicking himself.  
  
"I'm still wondering about Pony though." For some reason it was easier to think about his brother with Steve than it was when he was alone. Less emotional.  
  
"Well, seeing as Dally's the only one who knows anything about them-"  
  
"Dally's not saying nothing."  
  
"Well, if you keep bugging him, he might just get fed up and tell you." Soda bit into the apple. Steve had a point.  
  
"Can't hurt to try," Steve coaxed.  
  
"True," Soda said reluctantly.  
  
"Good. Glad you agree. I'm guessing you aren't going to work, since you're about," he checked his watch, "three hours late. So let's go then?"  
  
"Where're we going?" Two-Bit's asked cheerfully, poking his head in through the screen door. Soda jumped.  
  
"How long you been there?" he demanded.  
  
"Ah, who cares. Let's go man," Steve was bouncing from one foot to the other, anxious to get out and do something.  
  
Soda rolled his eyes. "A little impatient are we?"  
  
"Very," Steve agreed.  
  
~  
  
"So this is where he sleeps."  
  
Two-Bit's voice cut through his fogged mind. "Ughh," Dally groaned, protesting the intrusion. He'd been having a nice dream. Something about Cherry, and that little red car of hers...  
  
"Glory! He looks about thirteen when he's asleep," Dally rolled off the park bench, fully awake now.  
  
"I do NOT look thirteen Two-Bit Matthews. I never looked thirteen," Dally growled. Two-Bit smiled complacently.  
  
"I think you do. Don't you think so Steve?" Steve gave him a quick smile but didn't respond; in his opinion, Two-Bit was flirting with death, and Steve wasn't about to join in that.  
  
"Dallas. We need to talk." Soda sat down on the bench. "I need to know where Ponyboy is," he said seriously.  
  
"So you've said," Dally replied tiredly. "And every time you ask if I'll tell you, what's my answer?"  
  
"`No.'"  
  
"Yeah, an' Soda, that has not changed."  
  
"Dallas, I need to know if he's okay. Come on, be a pal." Dally groaned inwardly. Soda was pleading with him. God, it made him feel sick. He was on the verge of giving in, just to stop Soda from whining.  
  
"Look," he said finally. "I'm planning on visiting them. I'll find out for ya how they are. I'll tell `em anything you want to tell `em. But I'm not telling you where they are." Dallas folded his arms across his chest, his words ringing with finality.  
  
"You really are a stupid, stubborn prick aren't you," Steve said flatly. Dally's eyes narrowed and Steve instantly regretted saying anything.  
  
"I have my reasons Steve Randle," he hissed. He stood. "And I'm hungry. I ain't staying around here no more." Dallas pushed passed Two-Bit and headed down the street digging in his pocket for money he didn't have. He swore quietly, realizing that he needed cash, and soon.  
  
"Where do you think you're going?" Two-Bit clattered down the street behind him.  
  
"Get food, like I said," Dally replied rounding the corner. Broke as he was, Dally had two choices: steal a meal, or search through some dumpster for anything edible.  
  
"I don't think you should eat today," Two-Bit replied as they rounded a corner. "The diner's garbage can's ain't lookin' too appealing-"  
  
The two greasers stopped short. Not ten feet in front of them, a small group of Socs stood, laughing and talking. Dally's eyes narrowed, recognizing the sandy haired Soc who'd flipped him off at the council. The Soc turned, tossing aside his cigarette. Then he froze, his eye catching Dally's. The boy straightened slowly, smirking.  
  
"Well, well, well. It's the smart mouthed greaser," the Soc said loudly. His friends turned, catching sight of Two-Bit and Dallas.  
  
"What's going on?" Two-Bit murmured. Dally shook his head.  
  
"What - cat got your tongue?" The Soc was slowly advancing. Dally moved forward, tensing his muscles.  
  
"What the fuck do you want?" he demanded. The Soc's mouth curled into a sneer. He spat contemptuously in the greaser's direction.  
  
"A town without trash like you, that's what," the Soc snapped. Without missing a beat Dallas launched himself at the taller boy, kicking him down, his hands grabbing at the boy's jacket. Then someone was wrenching him away, and the Soc was backing up.  
  
"You alright Tommy?" Another Soc was glaring hatefully at Dallas. Dally bared his teeth back at him.  
  
Two-Bit smacked him in the head. "Whatsamatter with you? No fightin' afore a rumble remember?" Dally said nothing. He gazed through slit eyes at the Socs as they passed, mumbling angry words. Once they were gone he turned back to Two-Bit, grinning.  
  
"Guess what I got!" Dallas waved the Soc' wallet proudly at the other greaser. Two-Bit let out a shout of laughter.  
  
"Goddamn! I got me a protégé." He gave Dally's head a hard rub. Dallas snorted.  
  
"I ain't your protégé."  
  
"Naw, but you're spouting jokes, and stealing shit all over the place. That sounds like me."  
  
"Whatever," Dally mumbled. He crouched at the edge of the sidewalk, examining his prize. There was the usual: driver's license, library card...and money.  
  
"Holy hell Dallas!" Two-Bit was peering over his shoulder. "That's one fucking rich Soc you just robbed." Dally smirked, tucking the wad of cash carefully into his pocket.  
  
"Well he WAS rich." He tossed the now significantly lighter wallet down on the sidewalk; he had no use for the rest of the crap in there.  
  
"Tell you what Two-Bit." Dallas stood, stretching like a cat. "I'll buy ya breakfast if you leave me alone after it." Shrugging, Two-Bit clapped a hand down on Dally's shoulder.  
  
"Anything for food," he replied happily. 


	24. Chapter 24

Slashed Tires Chapter 24  
  
A/N: It's a little long, a little weird, but it's almost done! Three more chapters, tops. Er...I think.  
  
~  
  
BLEEP! BLEEP!  
  
Cherry groaned, pressing her hands over her ears. That horn had to be the most obnoxious noise in the world.  
  
Bleep. BLEEEEEEP!  
  
"Ah, be quiet!" she hissed under her breath.  
  
Bleep.  
  
BLEEEEEEEEP!  
  
"WHOOEEE!" A familiar voice called out. "Hot chick, 12 o'clock!"  
  
She was most certainly the only girl sitting outside. Scowling, Cherry, looked up to see an old beat up tan T-Bird (going at least 85) skid to a stop, spraying gravel in waves that almost reached the picnic table she was seated at. Two-Bit Matthews was leaning out of the driver's window, grinning crazily. He caught her eye and winked, hoping out of the car and loping over to her. Cherry's gaze slid past him, to where Dallas was still clutching the dashboard in a ten-finger death grip, gasping slightly from the ride. He scrambled quickly from the steaming car, and stumbled past Two-Bit into the restaurant. Cherry watched him go, smiling slightly. He looked like he was going to be sick.  
  
She looked up as Two-Bit plopped himself down on the opposite end of the bench. He grinned at her.  
  
"How's it goin' doll?" She had to smile.  
  
"I'm alright. How are you?"  
  
"Dandy." The greaser looked around himself, lazily taking in his surroundings. "So what you doing here in a sleazy ass place like this? Pardon my French."  
  
"I'm eating," she replied, pointing obviously to the almost empty small fries container and small diet coke in front of her.  
  
"Here?" Two-Bit cocked an eyebrow.  
  
"Yes. It's my rebellious nature." Two-Bit laughed loudly. Cherry smiled absently, her gaze caught by a flash of brilliantly blond hair. Dally was hurrying, best he could, through the mess of doors. She let her gaze roam around him aimlessly, noting that his clothing was wrinkled, and his hair probably hadn't been combed in a week.  
  
"He's a little hottie ain't he?" Cherry jumped and gave the greaser a dirty look. Two-Bit had followed her gaze, and was now smirking knowingly at her. "Don't you just love that unattractive, beat-up, mangy cat look?" Cherry stifled a giggled. His description of Dallas was flawless.  
  
"Really, girl, why would you go for that bedraggled idiot, when you could have a real stunner like me?" Two-Bit gave her a ridiculously large smile, and Cherry couldn't help laughing at him. Two-Bit glanced back to the doorway of the fast-food place, wondering what was taking his friend so long. Dallas was caught in the revolving door, turning round and round in confusion. Two-Bit snorted and pointed him out to Cherry.  
  
"Look there: now he thinks he's a hamster. Stupid git."  
  
Cherry's eyes watered. Two-Bit grinned watching her laugh. "I am still the master," he said airily, watching Dally make it out the door.  
  
"What's your rush, PODNER?" he called out in a cowboyish drawl as the blond tore across the gravel towards them.  
  
Dallas made a dash for the table, trying to seat himself behind Two-Bit so quickly he tripped.  
  
"Having a bad day?" Two-Bit asked sweetly.  
  
"That's the last time I let you drive, you road raged moron!" Two-Bit chuckled. Dallas glanced behind him. "Sylvia's in there," he muttered, handing Two-Bit the order slip. "New boyfriend...and I ain't your partner!" Looking up he caught Cherry's questioning gaze. "I, uh, there was a spider," he stammered, pointing back at the door. Cherry's expression nearly made him slap himself.  
  
"Nice going. Real smooth," Two-Bit said sarcastically.  
  
"Shut up."  
  
The three waited in awkward silence.  
  
"So...who's Sylvia?" Cherry asked, nonchalantly picking up a fry.  
  
"No one," Dally snapped, just as Two-Bit said "Ex-girlfriend." Cherry almost dropped the fry.  
  
Dally glared at the other greaser, who gazed back as innocently as he could manage. "Oh, sorry. Was that supposed to be a secret?"  
  
"Shut up," Dally said through gritted teeth.  
  
"Sure didn't seem like a secret," Two-Bit plucked the uneaten fry from Cherry's limp grasp. "Seein' as you people were always making out everywhere..."  
  
"Shut UP."  
  
"Making out." Cherry raised her eyebrows.  
  
"...and you seein' as you were always bragging about what went on with y'all in the bedroom..."  
  
"Two-Bit..."  
  
"Oh, the bedroom." Cherry's eyes were boring holes into Dally's.  
  
"...and seeing as how you were all mad before when you said y'all broke up and she threw that ring back at you."  
  
"SHUT UP!"  
  
"A ring!" Cherry was smiling stiffly at Dallas, but her eyes were daggers, directed at his very own sinful soul. "So this was serious then!"  
  
"Not THAT kind of ring," Dally protested weakly.  
  
There was a tense pause.  
  
"Anyway, our order's probably ready!" Two-Bit chirped, ignoring the look of deadly hatred Dallas directed at him. "Be back in a jiffy! Leave you two kids to chat." He leapt up from the table and was at the revolving door before either of the teens could say anything else.  
  
Cherry gazed unblinkingly at Dally, a cheerful smile still plastered on her face. Dally stared at his hands, but he could feel her gaze on him, her eyes sizzling with anger.  
  
`What is this?' Cherry thought. She had no right to be jealous. There was nothing between her and the tow-headed greaser. In fact, she really hadn't tried to start anything. In fact, she'd declined his offer to start something between them. In fact, she'd promised herself that she wouldn't get involved, and, in fact, just last night she had convinced herself that she was over him. `And it's his ex for God's sake!' she berated herself. `And you knew he couldn't be a virgin. At least this proves that he can be part of a relationship.' The last thought was a bit of a stretch from the actual truth, but (in fact) it was this thought exactly that comforted her the most.  
  
`What is this?' Dally thought, picking absentmindedly at a hangnail. He was furious with himself. No girl was supposed to have this kind of hold on him. He didn't have to answer to her. He was Dallas Winston! He didn't have to give a crap about the opinion of anybody, and certainly no Soc-girl. And it was his life, after all. He could date whomever he wanted to. And he wasn't even involved with Sylvia anymore! `And what, did she want me to stay a virgin forever?' he thought angrily. Still, he couldn't bring himself to look her in the eye. He'd already made her mad twice before, and he wasn't about to make a fool of himself yet again. A thought occurred to him: why was she even angry? Was she just disgusted with him, or was she actually jealous? The thought gave him enough courage to say (without looking at her):  
  
"We weren't making out ALL the time. I mean, she wasn't that good..."  
  
Cherry bit her lip, her expression softening. Why was it that boys always said the stupidest things when trying to keep girls from getting mad at them? And why (oh, why) was it that these stupid things were always what made the potentially angry girl bite her lip and think `oh, he's so ignorant and cute' and then automatically forgive the boy? Why? WHY?  
  
"So do you hate her, or are you scared of her?" she asked suddenly, helpless to stop the flood of warmth and laughter in her tone. Dallas looked up.  
  
"I ain't scared of her. But until I get another girl, every time I see her with another kid, I have to beat the living crap outta the other guy, if I want to keep my rep that is," Dally explained matter-of-factly.  
  
Cherry stopped herself from rolling her eyes. She reminded herself that it was expected to give your ex's new girlfriend a cold look and then insult her outfit, if you were a girl. `But at least that doesn't break any bones,' she thought.  
  
"And the guy she was with looked like he'd be a pretty good fight. But if I wanna do the rumble, I gotta keep my strength up and all," Dally added. Cherry didn't seem mad. This thought sent a quiver of warmth through his body (though he scolded himself for it), and upped his confidence a few notches. And then Two-Bit came back, and it dropped quickly.  
  
"Howdy y'all, get everything patched up?" Two-Bit plopped a tray, loaded with greasy food, down on the table. "Help yourselves," motioning at the two. There was plenty enough for all.  
  
Cherry gazed at the mountain of grease, her stomach aching. But she shook her head - for one, she was on a diet, and she wasn't about to gorge herself in front of any boy, greaser or Soc. `ESPECIALLY not if I might like him,' she thought, glancing shyly at Dallas. Hormones had waged war with her reasonable self, but the prospect of young love had won hands down.  
  
"Come on. You ain't on some diet or something?" Cherry jumped; Two-Bit had read her mind.  
  
"No," she lied, and took a chip as proof. Dally took a one too, chewing slowly. He was too tense to eat, with Two-Bit and his giant-sized mouth chomping (and talking) away beside him.  
  
"You know, I really shouldn't have said all that," he said pointing a fry at Cherry. "About Dallas and Sylvia and all."  
  
Dally choked on his Pepsi. He tried to tell Two-Bit to shut the hell up for Pete's sake, but the greaser gave him a hearty whack on the back, sending him into another coughing fit.  
  
"I was kinda off." When Two-Bit didn't say any more, Dally relaxed. He reached over Cherry's arm (she was picking out another of their chips to nibble on) and grabbed a burger. Two-Bit waited until he had his mouth full to say:  
  
"I mean, he probably only slept with her about 20 timesssoooww!" The greaser reached down, rubbing his shin. "That was spiteful Dallas."  
  
Dally snorted. "Using big words today huh?" He watched as his friend inspected his leg, his watch catching to light.  
  
"You know, I'm probably going to get a bruise there-" Two-Bit's complaint was cut short when Dally grabbed his arm.  
  
"Fu...um...darn!" he gasped, staring at the time. It was nearly 1 p.m. "I gotta get going. Later Cherry." He hurried across the gravel to the car they'd borrowed from Buck.  
  
"Hold up! How'm I supposed to get home?" Two-Bit yelled.  
  
"Walk!" Dally replied, starting the T-Bird up with a roar. "See y'all later!" he shouted, speeding the old car out of the lot. Two-Bit groaned.  
  
Cherry watched him go, not even waving. She sighed, picking up a fistful of fries. Two-Bit raised his eyebrows at her sudden change in eating habits but said nothing. Cherry glanced up at him and gave him a small smile. Two-Bit grinned.  
  
"Guess it's just me an' you, darlin'," he said, helping himself to the rest of Dally's burger. 


	25. Chapter 25

Slashed Tires Chapter 25  
  
A/N: Okay, well. It's getting there. Changed it a bit, cause I forgot some stuff that I was supposed to write before. Bear with me kay?  
  
Dallas gritted his teeth and slowed the car reluctantly: he'd hit another red light. He tapped his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel, replaying the scene with Cherry over in his mind for what was probably the fiftieth time.  
  
He caught himself smiling dreamily, and jerked himself back to the present. `This is stupid,' he thought angrily. It would never work.  
  
"You are a greaser, Dallas. She's a Soc. The twain shall never meet," he said out loud. Dallas blinked in surprise. `The twain shall never meet?' he thought, frowning. It was probably something Ponyboy had said. He had the kids on his mind.  
  
The light changed, and he sped the car forward, hearing the engine strain against the sudden movement. A car horn blared but he ignored it, his mind already back to the girl.  
  
It was just the thrill of the chase.  
  
`That's it,' Dallas thought, sighing with relief. It was nothing more. He didn't really care about her. He didn't care about anyone really.  
  
`Except maybe, Johnny,' he thought, and the car roared, the speedometer hitting 90. He smirked, and slowed down (a speeding ticket was the last thing he needed). If only Two-Bit could see him now. Dallas shrugged the thought away from him. He liked the driver's seat best anyway.  
  
His mind returned to the pressing subject of his feelings. `I care about Johnny,' he thought pointedly. `A lot. Maybe even love-' he winced, `the guy. But Cherry I don't care about.' That thought felt so wrong he sped up past the 90 mark, nearly running through a light. He slammed down on the brakes, the car jerking to a stop, and listened to the answering squeals of brake meeting asphalt behind him.  
  
`Okay,' he thought, absently toying with a rip in his shirt. `I do care about Cherry. But I don't love-" try as he might, he couldn't stop flinching at that damned word, `her. But I love Johnny. So I'm gay??'  
  
"No!" He said angrily. "We've been over this Dallas. You aren't gay. You don't love him that way..." But was it really possible to love someone in a different way? Johnny wasn't his brother or anything. `Maybe I love Cherry, and I don't love Johnny, but I just don't know which feeling is love.' His mind was spinning, searching desperately for answers he didn't have and was never equipped to deal with in the first place.  
  
"Goddamn!" Dallas shouted suddenly, slamming his fist into the car horn. "Stupid ass feelings! I'm not gay, I don't love Cherry, and I...oh fuck, that is it, SCREW FEELINGS!" He leaned angrily on the horn for no reason except to demonstrate his new found hatred of emotions. The man in the car beside him gave Dallas the strangest look, but he didn't care at that point.  
  
Dally pressed down firmly on the gas pedal, not caring that the light hadn't quite changed yet. Anger and frustration burned inside him. These were the feelings he was familiar with. He twisted the wheel violently, turning on to the freeway. The car leapt over a bump, soaring in the air, then landed, taking his breath away for a moment. He was going way too fast already, but he sped up even more, frantically trying to escape the dangerous feelings that haunted him.  
  
~  
  
Johnny yawned. He felt sleepy under the afternoon sun. He longed to be taking a nap like Ponyboy was, but it wasn't safe. He had to keep a lookout. His stomach rumbled and he reached for his baloney sandwich, only to throw it back in disgust. The thought of more baloney almost made him retch. A car roared in the distance, but so far no one had come near the church. Johnny wasn't worried. But as the car began to get louder he tensed. He stood, getting ready to yell at Pony to run for it. Finally he spotted it, soaring over the winding roads, at 90 or more, the engine pushed to its limit, heading straight for the church. The old T-Bird screamed down the road, disappearing in a cloud of dust when it pulled up at the church. Johnny backed up, staring at the slowly emerging vehicle. A slim, blond boy slammed the car door, and leaned on the T-Bird, head cocked, gazing back at him. Johnny's breath caught in his throat. After so long, it almost seemed like a dream...  
  
The whistle started low, soft, and long, then suddenly, it swooped up, piercing the air in a shrill note. Johnny's excitement mounted, and he was barely able to return the call, before tearing down the steps and launching himself at the first human being beside Ponyboy he'd seen in a week.  
  
"Oof!" Dally staggered back under the weight of the smaller boy. Johnny was thin, pale, his hair cut and horribly untuff. Dallas hadn't been prepared for such a drastic change in appearance. And he most certainly hadn't been prepared for Johnny throwing himself at him.  
  
"I'm so glad to see you!" Johnny fairy squealed. Dallas had to bite his lip to keep from saying the same thing.  
  
"What the hell happened to your hair?" Dallas demanded, untangling himself from the boy's grasp. Johnny blushed.  
  
"We cut it. Me and Ponyboy. And we dyed Pony's hair. It's real blond now, almost like yours."  
  
"Sure, kid. You sick or something? You're all pale."  
  
"No." Johnny's exuberance had faded; he went back to his one syllable answers.  
  
Dallas stepped inside the dusty church. Ponyboy was sleeping in a corner, wrapped up in Dally's jacket. He made his way slowly over to the sleeping boy. "Glory! He sure looks different with his hair like that." Dallas nudged the kid with the tip of his boot. Ponyboy grunted and pushed himself up, blinking sleepily.  
  
"Hey Dally!" He said grinning, his eyes lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning. `Jeez, they must really be bored,' Dally thought.  
  
"Hey, Ponyboy!" He grinned. "Or should I call you Sleeping Beauty?"  
  
Ponyboy's mouth opened and words tumbled out in a jumble, more words than Dallas remembered him ever speaking at one time.  
  
"How's Sodapop? Are the fuzz after us? Is Darry all right? Do the boys know where we are? What..."  
  
"Hold on!" Ponyboy fell silent, and Dallas almost laughed. It had been awhile since anyone had listened to him like that. "I can't answer everything at once," he said sternly. His stomach rumbled viciously. Startled, he realized that all he'd had for breakfast was a couple of french-fries and a bite of a burger. `Breakfast my ass,' he thought grumpily. "Y'all wanna get some food? I skipped breakfast and I'm about starved."  
  
"You're starved?" Johnny's mouth was agape.  
  
"It's safe to go out?" Ponyboy demanded.  
  
"Yeah." Dallas patted his shirt-front, then slid a hand into his pocket. `Shit,' he thought, realizing he'd forgotten to get cigarettes. "Gotta cancer stick, Johnnycake?" Johnny tossed him a pack. Dally pulled one out, lighting it easily. He wrinkled his nose...damn Camels. He hated them.  
  
"The fuzz won't be lookin' for y'all. They think you're in Texas. Look, I got Buck's T-Bird out front...Goshamighty ain't you boys been eatin'?"  
  
Both boys looked up at him in surprise.  
  
"Yeah, what gave you that idea that we ain't?"  
  
Dallas took a drag off his smoke. "You're both pale. You lost weight." He paused, squinting at the two. "Y'all should get out in the sun more after this. You look like you've been through the mill." Ponyboy gave him a look, but said nothing. Dallas frowned, reminded suddenly of the way Two-Bit made fun of him.  
  
"Here," he said suddenly, digging around for the Soda-note. "I got a letter for ya, Ponyboy."  
  
"A letter?" Ponyboy seemed so stunned. "From who?"  
  
Dally snorted. "The president, stupid. From Soda." He tossed the battered envelope at Ponyboy.  
  
"Soda? But how..."  
  
Dally shrugged. "Found out somehow or another. But kid, you oughtta see Darry. He's going crazy, all worried `bout you..." Dallas trailed off, realizing that Ponyboy wasn't listening. He watched the boy read the letter.  
  
"Hey," he said suddenly, looking up at the blond. "Why'd you get hauled in to the station?"  
  
Dally grinned. "Them boys down at the station know me. Anything happens on our turf..." he shrugged. "While I was there, I kinda let it slip that y'all were going to Texas. So they won't look for y'all around here." Dally took a drag of his smoke. Grimacing, he swore at it, annoyed it wasn't his usual brand.  
  
"You sure can cuss good," Johnny said admiringly. Even Ponyboy looked a little impressed.  
  
Dallas smiled. What a difference it made, to be able to lord around over the kids. He felt like his usual self. He flicked the cigarette away.  
  
"Sure can," he agreed. "But don't go picking up my bad habits." He glanced at Ponyboy, smirking. The kid's hair was an abnormal shade of yellow, and it curled around his head like a wet mop. "Kid, I swear you look different with your hair all gone. You and Soda used to have the tuffest hair in town."  
  
Ponyboy's expression darkened. "I know. I look lousy, but don't rub it in."  
  
Dally rolled his eyes. "Y'all want something to eat now or what?"  
  
Both boys leapt to their feet. "God yes!" Ponyboy groaned.  
  
"Be nice to get back in a car again," Johnny agreed.  
  
Dally shrugged. So he'd take a page from Two-Bit's book this morning. "Well, I'll give you kids a ride for your money."  
  
~  
  
Johnny gulped down the last of his second barbecue sandwich. He glanced up, catching Dally's gaze. The older boy looked completely amazed at Ponyboy and his appetites.  
  
"Glory," he drawled, and Johnny grinned, happy to hear that familiar New Yorkish accent. "Y'all don't have to eat like every bite's your last. I got plenty of money." Dally grinned remembering the Soc he'd robbed that morning. "Calm down, don't get sick on me. Man, and I thought I was hungry!"  
  
"Hey kids, I didn't tell you something," Dally said suddenly, putting down his hamburger. "The Socs and us are having an all out war. Soc against grease. Started to be you couldn't walk down the street alone without getting' jumped." He paused, remembering Two-Bit and Angela. "I started carrying a heater." He'd almost forgotten. Dallas nodded at the car. "It's in there-"  
  
"Dallas!" Ponyboy sounded so much like Darry that he made Dallas jump. "You kill people with heaters."  
  
"You kill em with switchblades too doncha?" Dally winced inwardly watching Johnny swallow nervously. He hadn't meant to bring that up. Dallas shook his head.  
  
"It ain't loaded," he barreled on. "I just use it for bluff. Tomorrow night, us and Shepards outfit are rumbling with them Socs. Got hold a one of their Socy club presidents. Had a war council. If they win, things go on as usual. If we win, they stay outta out territory but good. Hey," he yelped suddenly, remembering Cherry. "I didn't tell y'all. We got ourselves a spy."  
  
"A spy? Who?" Johnny glanced up.  
  
Dallas hesitated. He was enjoying not being teased and humiliated every few seconds. He didn't feel like giving it up right then just to tell a couple of kids that he had a crush.  
  
"That redheaded Soc I tried to pick up that night you killed the Soc. Cherry what's-her-name."  
  
Both boys choked and looked up at Dallas. "Cherry?" They gasped in unison. "The Soc?!"  
  
"Yeah," Dallas said slowly. "She pulled up to your house the night Two-Bit got jumped. Tim and some of us were hanging out. She pulled up in her little red Sting Ray...took some nerve." He smiled remembering how he'd thought Cherry had been so brave. `Thrill of the chase,' he reminded himself. "Some of us," `Steve,' he thought with a smile, "wanted to jump her right then and there, but Two-Bit stopped them. Man, next time I want a broad I'll pick up one of my own kind."  
  
"Yeah," Johnny said, but he sounded uneasy. Both boys were staring at him, hanging on to his every word.  
  
"Yeah, so she said she thought the whole mess was her fault, which it is, and she wanted to help us out. And she'd testify that the Socs were drunk and it'd been self-defense. I," he paused, "I offered to take her to the Dingo for a coke. She told me `no thank you' and told me where I could go in very polite terms." He laughed bitterly. "That little gal sure does hate me." `Well, she will soon enough,' he thought gloomily. `Thrill of the chase, Dallas.' But the thought had lost some of its meaning. Dally sighed softly, wishing for a minute that he could just be normal. Even with all the teasing and Darry flexing his muscles to get him to do whatever he wanted him to. He was sick of pretending.  
  
The boys finished their meal and hopped back in the car. Then Johnny dropped the bomb.  
  
"We're going back to turn ourselves in," he announced and Dally gagged on his own spit. He swore. They couldn't do that! A flash of fear ran through him as they picture what would happen to the kids if they went back. The chair, jail...he shuddered.  
  
"What?" he demanded. Johnny paled.  
  
"We're going back-"  
  
"Why?!"  
  
"It ain't fair for Ponyboy, to have to keep hiding and running. I don't intend to stay in that church my whole life. And I got a good chance of being let off easy." Johnny swallowed. He'd started out confident, but fear had slowly and surely crept up on him. It was eating away at what conviction he had left, and he almost lost his nerve, almost told Dally to forget it, he was being stupid. Then he thought of the baloney, and started talking again.  
  
"I got no record with the fuzz. And it was self-defense. We won't tell them you helped us," he added. Dally's jaw clenched. Ponyboy was silent in the backseat. He obviously had no problems with going back.  
  
Dally swallowed nervously. "You sure? Us greasers get it worse than anybody else-"  
  
"I'm sure," Johnny said firmly, homesickness welling up inside him. "It just...it ain't fair, Soda and Darry worrying about Pony so much. I guess...my parents aren't worried about me are they?"  
  
Dally's heart lurched. `God,' he thought, his mind spinning. He'd hardly ever spoken to Johnny's parents. They hadn't done a thing as far as he knew to find out about Johnny. "The boy's are worried," he said instead, hoping his voice didn't quiver. "Two-Bit was going to Texas to hunt for ya-"  
  
"My parents didn't ask about me though?"  
  
"Dammit!" Dally slammed his hand down hard on the steering wheel. "Johnny, no, they didn't. But so what? My old man," he paused, an unexpected pain shooting through him. `What the hell? Am I having a heart attack?' he thought frowning, but then the pain was gone. "My old man, he don't care nothin' about me. Don't care if I'm in jail, or dead, or what. Don't bother me none."  
  
When Johnny didn't say anything, Dally swore. He started the car up, speeding it out of the Dairy Queen with a roar. Johnny stayed silent, but he looked as sad as if he was crying. Dally swallowed, and forced himself to think of something else. In the back, Ponyboy was so quiet he could have been dead.  
  
"Damn it Johnny!" Dally growled, tearing around the corner. "Why didn't you think of turning yourselves in five days ago? Would saved a lot of trouble." He glanced behind him; Ponyboy was still there. `Damn that kid's quiet when he want's to be,' Dallas thought.  
  
"I was scared," Johnny said seriously, and Dally's mind was yanked back to the present problem. "I still am." He tried to grin. "Guess we ruined our hair for nothing, huh Ponyboy?" `Must be as freaked out by that quiet kid as I am,' Dally thought glancing back again at the still silent Ponyboy.  
  
"I guess so." Even when he spoke, you had to strain your ears to their limit to hear the words. Dallas hit the steering wheel again, frustrated, and a silence so heavy they could feel it descended on them.  
  
"Johnny," Dally felt dizzy. His voice was high and unnatural, and he remembered, suddenly, his voice being that same way, just a last week (it seemed so long ago) with Tim...something about tires...  
  
"I ain't mad at you. I just don't want you to get hurt. You don't know what a few months in jail can do to you. Damnit Johnny," Dally swallowed, brushing back his tangled hair, "you get hardened in jail. I don't want it to happen to you, the way it happened to me..." Dallas fell silent, realizing too late he'd said more than he wanted to.  
  
Then Johnny started to say something. "Dallas..."  
  
But Dally didn't hear it, because right in front of him was the church, it's dark painted steeple brilliant red with fire, flames licking at the walls all around. "Oh glory," he whispered, and then, before he could stop him, Johnny had leapt from the car. 


	26. Chapter 26

Slashed Tires Chapter 26  
  
A/N: Warning: this story is so dramatic and sappy that you may puke. I hope y'all don't. This chapter isn't that long. But the next one will probably be the last chapter.  
  
"Get your goddamned asses out here!" Dallas shouted for the millionth time. The fir roared in response. He backed away from the church, swearing angrily. Sweat ran down his body in little rivers, coating him in the slick liquid. Dallas pushed his matter hair off his forehead, his eyes straining against the glare of the flames. His heart thudded in his ears, drowning out everything but the crackle of fire and the faint yells from inside the church. He inched forward, flinching from the heat. The smell of burning wood and smoke filled his mouth and nose, his eyes stung, clouding his vision. Dallas brushed the ashes from his eyes, steadily creeping toward the flaming house of God. A shadow appeared through the broken window, bulky and staggering. It moved forward, and before Dallas could yell a thing, a small shadow detached itself from the first. It came into view, shrieking pink flesh streaked with black. Dally's heart skipped a beat. But it was only a child, wailing,  
moaning, coughing, younger than the others, and not moving an inch.  
  
"Get outta the way!" Dallas hollered waving his hands through the clouds of gray smoke. The child only screamed louder, immobile, hunkered down against the unbearable heat, his tiny eyes squeezed closed and leaking tears. Cussing under his breath, Dallas pushed on toward the boy. He hefted the terrified child into his arms, dragging him away from the flames. The child clutched at him with a sticky ten-fingered grip, his brown eyes now wide and scared. Panting slightly, Dallas dumped the boy into the waiting arms of his mother.  
  
"My baby! Oh bless you!" she cried, her sobbing child pressed against her chest. But Dallas had already turned back, yelling, cursing, stamping his foot in sheer frustration.  
  
The shadow returned and Dally crossed his fingers hoping that there were no more children to be saved. The silhouette flung itself through the window, dragging through the ragged hole. Dallas hurried forward to greet it, blinking the sweat from his eyes. Ponyboy appeared, his hair and skin shades darker than usual, his clothing plastered against his body. He staggered forward, his eyes meeting Dally's. Behind him the fire blazed still higher, and the church steeple shuddered. The boy glowed bright as the church, red wings sprouting from the blackened jacket he wore. Dally stared in horror, trying to make his shaking limbs move, to do something, anything to put him out. Pony's eyes stared back at him, demon-like, glazed over and red as the fire on his back from smoke. The fire bellowed and then slowly, with a moan of defeat, the steeple slumped inward, with the blazing boy in front steadily moving forward, crumpling under the pressing heat of the fire like a scene from  
apocalypse. A scream erupted from the wreckage, a scream Dallas could feel in his bones. Then, suddenly he made his move, swinging his arm with more force than intended, his limb connecting heavily with Ponyboy's back. A burst of energy sent him leaping over the boy as he fell, his voice screaming itself hoarse, looking for Johnny, calling for Johnny, as he barreled through the flaming debris into a red inferno. Later, he wouldn't remember the jets of water from the too late firemen, delaying the insistent fire for those few precious seconds. He wouldn't remember the wail of the ambulances as they pulled up. He wouldn't remember any of the other men, wearing yellow slickers and masked helmets, rushing forward to his aide, flinching more from the fire than he did. He wouldn't remember anyone screaming at him that he was on fire, they're hands beating at his arm desperately. He wouldn't recall the praise from the townspeople, their faces sparkling in wonder as they gazed at  
him, and Johnny and Ponyboy, the children staring at them like they were gods. All he would remember was a brilliant scarlet and Johnny's pale face, unconscious, his broken body limp and lifeless in his grasp, a sense of despair rising in him until he sank, mercifully, into bleak darkness.  
  
~  
  
They jolted his stretcher. He was already almost awake, but it annoyed him so much he could have screamed, had he the voice to. They carried him up the slate gray steps, and into the building, which smelled like puke and some sort of chemical. He was awake now, but groggy and pissed off because there was something wrong with his ears.  
  
"He's stable and-"  
  
"Awake! He'll be-"  
  
"Unconscious. Might not make-"  
  
"The jacket saved him. Lucky-"  
  
"Burn. He'll have a scar but-"  
  
"No identification."  
  
"Shut up." Dallas had found his voice at last. But once the initial satisfaction of saying the words had worn off he found himself in more of a fix, as the voices bubbled over, excited that he'd spoken. Closing his eyes, Dallas tried to imagine he was somewhere else, anywhere other than he was at the moment. The stretcher bumped again making his stomach churn and his eyes flew open, the florescent glare of the hospital lights making him jump in surprise. His ride bumped again. This time, pain gripped his arm, and he fought dizzily against the urge to groan.  
  
"Lemme off," he growled, then paused as a wave of nausea over took him. "I can walk."  
  
"No you can't," came the first coherent answer he'd heard since he'd woke up. And it only made him more frustrated. "You've inhaled too much smoke."  
  
"Bull," Dally snapped. "Ain't you never heard a cigarettes? Same shit and I can walk just fine."  
  
A small, bespectacled, balding head peered down at him. Dallas struggled to get up, only to be shoved back down by a gnarled hand. He winced; his arm hurt more than ever.  
  
"You're drugged." A gnarled finger was waved in his face. "You're weak. You can't walk."  
  
"Go to hell," Dallas snapped, and got another finger wag. He resisted the first urge to bite it as hard as he could and settled back against the sheets, trying to get used to not seeing anything but the occasional gnarled appendage.  
  
He was wheeled down halls, white enameled halls, with white enameled ceilings, and brilliant yellow lights that reflected off the glassy surfaces. Five minutes later his stomach had calmed enough for him to turn his head to the side, relieving his sore eyes. He passed by people waiting, twitching, their eyes tired, paper vending machine coffee cups wilting in their hands. And then, sitting by himself was a boy, bruised and battered, with hair that was way to yellow.  
  
"Hey Ponyboy," he said. Ponyboy looked up. For a split second Soda's face gazed out from beneath the hideous hairstyle, and then Ponyboy's smile lit his face.  
  
"Hey Dally." He sounded even more tired then Dallas felt.  
  
"You ever do a stupid thing like that again and I'll beat the tar outta you, ya hear?"  
  
Ponyboy grinned weakly. "I hear ya Dallas."  
  
He hardly had time to throw in a few swear words before they'd wheeled him away again. Dallas squirmed under the sheet. His arm itched like hell, but they kept slapping him away when he tried to touch it. It was bandaged and lying across his chest, blood soaking through the white material. He figured it couldn't be that bad, or there would have been more blood. He was only really worried about Johnny.  
  
They wheeled him into a room (`Emergency room,' he smiled, recognizing it from past ouches) then left him there. The minute they left he reached for his arm, dragging his fingers across the tingling flesh. It burned, shooting pain through his arm, and he let out a yell, just as another doctor walked in. The man smiled wryly at Dallas.  
  
"You see now why you weren't supposed to touch it," the doctor said, as Dally grimaced, his teeth clenched.  
  
"It itches," he said sullenly, wincing slightly as the man took his arm. He slowly unwound the bandage, his gaze focused intensely on Dallas's arm. The blond studied the man, trying to keep his mind off his arm. The doctor was wearing glasses, big, wire-framed ones, but they seemed to work on him. He had lines all over his face, in every direction, and his salt and pepper hair gave confirmation of his age.  
  
"Why are doctors all so old?" Dally asked out loud. The doctor looked up, startled.  
  
"I'm hoping that it's the drugs that's making you talk like that or I'm willing to bet your daddy's whipped you some." Every thing this doctor said was tinged with a dry sarcasm that irritated Dallas almost as much as his arm did.  
  
"Of course I been whipped. I'm a greaser. Lots of us get whipped." Again, that startled rabbit look appeared on the doctor's graying face.  
  
"Well you shouldn't be."  
  
"Wow, you sure are smart. Bet it's cause you're a doctor huh," Dally said sarcastically. The man gave him a look and reached over him to grab something off a metal tray. Dallas studied the sensitive flesh of his arm. It was pink, with not as much blood as he'd thought, seeing as it hurt so much. He looked closer still, seeing the little blue lines running across his skin.  
  
"What are those?" he asked.  
  
"Veins. Arteries," the doctor replied without looking up. Dallas was about to ask what that meant when he felt a stinging in his good shoulder. He looked over to see a syringe buried in his arm.  
  
"Hey," he protested. "What are you doing?"  
  
"Shutting you up," the doctor muttered. "Sleep well, kid."  
  
Dally groaned out loud, one last act of rebellion, before he spiraled into darkness once again.  
  
~  
  
"Come on!" Soda squealed. "Faster Darry." Darry gritted his teeth and pressed his foot slowly but surely down on the gas pedal. The old Ford roared under him, leaping forward past other car speeding down the highway. It was late afternoon, almost night, and the brothers were speeding down toward the city's hospital.  
  
"Come on...come on...Darry let me drive!"  
  
"Not a chance," Darry snapped. But he sped the car up a little.  
  
Soda sighed, leaning back against the car chair. He was still in his work clothes. When the phone call about Ponyboy had come, he and Darry had dropped what they were doing, racing each other to the car. They had been driving for half an hour already. Soda kept wondering what was happening with his little brother. Worries flooded his brain combined with a strong sense of relief that he'd finally be seeing his brother again. Questions ran through his mind, the same questions he'd been asking himself all week. Shaking his head, he tried to turn his mind to other things, knowing that he'd have his answers soon enough.  
  
Darry could feel the tick in his eye, the jump of his clenched jaw. He could feel the way his muscles strained. He was tense. Ponyboy was on his mind now, and, unlike Sodapop, he was not able to put his brother from his mind. He swore softly, all the feelings he'd managed to suppress flowing back to him in an instant. One thought had occurred to him on the highway, one he hadn't thought of before: what if Ponyboy refused to see him? Darry shuddered. He didn't know what he'd do if he couldn't see Ponyboy today. He swallowed, hoping against hope that Ponyboy would forgive him.  
  
`I love you, and I always will love you.' Soda made a face, remembering the words he'd written only a few hours before. He'd taken Steve's idea, and written Sandy a long and sappy letter. He'd mailed it sometime before, but now he was beginning to regret it. It sounded so...pathetic. Soda sighed, slumping in his seat. At least he'd tried. He glanced up at his brother. Darry was swearing softly under his breath. Sweat gleamed on his forehead, and his muscles bulged with tension. Soda smiled.  
  
"Don't worry Darry. He'll forgive you."  
  
Darry jumped. He glanced at his younger brother and gave him a timid smile. Sodapop had read his mind again.  
  
"I hope he does," Darry said softly. 


	27. Chapter 27

1 Slashed Tires Chapter 27  
  
A/N: I lied. This is so not the last chapter. In fact, there will be at least 2 or three more. I think it's a relapse of writer's block because all of a sudden, the chapters are short again. Sorry y'all.  
  
~  
  
Darry pulled up at the hospital entrance, the Ford careening into a browning bush. "Go!" he ordered, shoving Sodapop out the door. His foot slammed down on the gas pedal and the car took off again, tires squealing. He parked it across three spaces and scrambled out of it. Darry rushed through the parking lot his mind set on seeing Ponyboy that very instant. He dashed into the hospital and up the stairs, breathing heavily. He caught up with Soda on the second staircase and then passed him, the younger boy panting and straining to keep up with his athletic brother.  
  
"Darry!" He gasped, leaning against the fifth floor railing. Darry paused, mid staircase and looked down impatiently at Soda. "This is the floor!" Darry dashed back down the stairs and the two brothers ripped open the door to the fourth floor waiting room. The few waiting people barely acknowledged their sudden intrusion, but the nurse behind the desk looked up at them, frowning.  
  
"Can I help you?" she asked, her brow creasing as she studied the gasping boys in front of her.  
  
"P-Ponyboy C-Curtis," Soda stammered, leaning heavily against the wall. "We're his brothers."  
  
"Ah yes," the nurse smiled. "One of the young heroes." Darry and Soda stared at her.  
  
"What are you talking about?" Darry blurted out. The nurse raised one over- plucked eyebrow.  
  
"You don't know?" she asked plainly, studying her nails.  
  
"I wouldn't have asked if I did!" Darry snapped. The nurse's eyes narrowed.  
  
"Well," she said snippily, "you can ask your brother about it. I'm sure he'll be happy to tell you." Soda hefted himself off the wall.  
  
"What room?" he asked wearily. The nurse gave him a look.  
  
"Right now? The lobby waiting room," she said slowly. "On the first floor."  
  
~  
  
By the time they had made it back to the lobby, Darry's excitement had taken a backseat to his nervousness. He'd imagined finding his brother, and throwing his arms around him in a classic, happy reunion. Now, all sort of scenarios were running through his brain, getting less and less pleasant the more he thought about it.  
  
Ponyboy swearing at him, a glare pasted on his face…Ponyboy refusing to see him…Ponyboy shoving him away, shouting that he didn't want Darry as a brother anymore…  
  
Darry was close to being sick when the brothers finally entered the first floor waiting room. His eyes scanned the room, finally spotting a doctor.  
  
"Hey doc, you got a Ponyboy Curtis around here?" Soda asked, hailing the doctor. The man looked him up and down, then frowned in disapproval.  
  
"I don't think-" he began, but was cut off by a portly man.  
  
"Yeah, we got a Ponyboy Curtis here," the man said. He had a cheerful round face, and spoke kindly. "You all related to him?" Darry nodded, feeling stiff. "I'm Jerry Wood. Pleased to meet you." Soda shook his hand, feeling impatient. He hopped from one foot to the other craning his neck, trying to spot his brother. The man smiled and made a clucking noise and motioned for them to follow. He led them through the large waiting room through a glass door to a short hall, just at the back, close to a door. Ponyboy was leaning against the wall, eyes closed, a cigarette dangling from his fingers.  
  
"Hey kid," Jerry Wood said to Ponyboy. "You got some people here to see you. Claim to be your brothers…" Ponyboy's eyes flew open. He leapt to his feet, his eyes radiant, and tore across the short expanse to where Sodapop was standing. Soda grabbed his younger brother, clutching him tightly to his chest. He stroked Pony's hair, listening to his brother's soft voice, muffled by Soda's shoulder. He paused, and really looked at the hair he was touching. It was bright yellow. He slowly moved back from the boy, wondering now if this was actually Ponyboy. His younger brother grinned back, his familiar face now framed by the worst haircut he'd ever had.  
  
"Oh Ponyboy, your hair…your tuff, tuff hair…" Soda said softly. Ponyboy grinned ruefully, and his gaze shifted to over Sodapop's shoulder. Darry stared back, his fists in his pocket, silently begging the boy for forgiveness.  
  
"Ponyboy…"  
  
'Please, Pony. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…' But Ponyboy only looked at him, an expression of half-wonder on his face. Darry licked his lips, startled to taste the salt of tears he hadn't shed in years. Slowly, reluctantly, he turned away, leaving behind the two people he cared most about it the world. And then…  
  
"DARRY!" Ponyboy's arms were clasped around his waist, so tight that Darry could hardly breathe. Not caring, Darry hugged him back, relieved, as a fresh wave of tears washed his face.  
  
"Oh Pony…I thought…I thought we'd lost you. Like we did Mom and Dad…" Darry gasped softly. He felt the tremor of the sobs as they shook his body, but gritting his teeth he kept them from surfacing; the Jerry Wood guy was still right there, looking carefully at the floor. But he held on tightly to Ponyboy, feeling, for the first time in what seemed like forever, a bond (tentative, weak, but there all the same) with his younger brother.  
  
~  
  
Johnny barely noticed when he woke up. He couldn't see and his entire body felt numb. It felt just like sleep. He was having the hardest time trying to form a complete thought. And it took what seemed like hours before he could hear a thing: a steady beep, beep, beep, of some machine, and his own harsh, irregular breathing.  
  
"Hello?" His voice was weak, broken, and he sounded like he had a cold.  
  
"Hello!" He tried to say it louder, and then a light was flicked on. Johnny flinched from the lights, closing his eyes against the glare. He heard murmuring voices. And a shh-click, shh-click sound that reminded him strangely of Dally's girlfriend. Slowly, his thoughts moving like a snail, he placed the sound: it was the noise that Sylvia's high heels had made when she walked on smooth floors. 'Sylvia always wears strange shoes,' he thought sleepily, and opened his eyes.  
  
The graying face of a nurse stared down at him, her gray eyes stony, her gray skin wrinkled and folding over itself, her gray hair pulled back severely beneath a grayed nurse hat.  
  
"He's stable." Even the nurse's voice was gray; 'at least, it was what gray would sound like, if gray had a voice,' Johnny reasoned.  
  
"Put him out. Let him sleep for now." Johnny didn't see where this voice came from, but he didn't have time to look, because all of a sudden, he felt something in his arm, and then he was back to not feeling, not seeing, not hearing…just waiting. 


	28. Chapter 28

Slashed Tires Chapter 28  
  
A/N: Again, bad innuendoes…they've actually gotten worse now. I don't know why I put them there, it just seemed to fit Dally's original personality, which I don't think I've been following too well. Also, if anyone's read Tex, the hospital scene inspired me. Anyway, apologies.  
  
P.S. I don't know why there was so much focus on the nurses. I really don't.  
  
P.P.S. Maybe a little hokey at the end. More apologies.  
  
~  
  
The sphere spun wildly, a melange of red, white and blue. It flew heavenward, pausing for a moment in midair, set against the painted, white, glassy background. Then, slowly at first but rapidly gaining speed, it began to fall, back to the ground from whence in came from as gravity clicked in. The perfect circular object was bounced skyward yet again, soaring, floating, and tumbling in a perfect unbroken sequence.  
  
Then Dallas made the mistake of trying to catch it with his bad arm.  
  
"Shit! SHIT!" he yelled, grimacing against the pain, the baseball landing on the tiled floor with an audible crack before rolling, forgotten, beneath the hospital bed. Swearing through gritted teeth, Dallas gently rubbed his sore arm. Someone knocked tentatively on his door.  
  
"Go away!" he shouted. "I don't want no drugs, my arm is fine!" But whoever it was ignored him and opened the door.  
  
Dally turned his back to the door, and glared angrily out the window at the brilliant morning. He punched at the pillow (which was white, like everything else in this goddamn hellhole). He'd spent a sleepless night in the hospital bed, worrying about everything and trying not to, his arm hurting and itching so bad he almost wished he could have cut it off. He'd had a roommate (a middle class man in his twenties who was scared of him) who, in the middle of the night, had woken up the whole floor from his sobs of pain. Even after pressing the nurse-call button about thirty times, no one came, so Dallas had to force himself to walk dizzily down to the nurse station where they dragged him back, drugged him some more and yelled at him about moving before carting away his roommate. Dally hadn't relaxed since then.  
  
"How's your arm." Dally didn't answer the nurse; she didn't really care anyway. The woman's heels clicked on the floor, her white skirt swished audibly around her thighs. She reached beneath the bed, snatching up the baseball, turning her round backside toward the blond. Dally scowled, looking away, trying to ignore the way her skirt rode up on her curvy hips. The nurse leaned over, placing the ball on the table beside him. Dally had to force himself not to look down her shirt. He knew exactly why the nurses were so attractive – the doctors were so bloody old and ugly that they couldn't get any on their own time.  
  
Dallas squirmed as the nurse drew clean white sheets over his body, trying to think of anything but what was going on between his legs. His mind went immediately to his aching arm, which was bothering him more than his crotch anyway.  
  
"Why does it itch so much?" he asked, trying to draw the nurse's attention to his face; hopefully, she wouldn't notice he was turned on.  
  
The nurse raised her eyebrows. She had considerably less makeup on than the others, though this wasn't much of an improvement; her lipstick was chewed off in places, and one eye was darker than the other was.  
  
"Why does WHAT itch?" she asked flatly, casting a suspicious look down south.  
  
"My ARM," Dally replied dryly, hoping he wasn't blushing.  
  
"How would I know? Do I look like a doctor?" The nurse snapped irritably. Dally's eyes widened in surprise. Most of the other nurses weren't as crabby. Most of the other nurses answered everything in a monotone, and usually one-syllable answers. Most of the other nurses were afraid of him.  
  
The nurse patted the sheet down his body. Dally jumped feeling the flat of her hand hit his groin. The nurse smirked at him, raising her uneven eyebrows knowingly.  
  
"I want a cigarette," Dally said quickly, trying to recover his dignity.  
  
The nurse shook her head. "No smoking."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because I said so."  
  
"Yeah? Well, fuck you." The nurse was startled at this. She looked sharply at Dallas, mouth wide open in surprise, anger tinting her large eyes. Dally yawned deliberately.  
  
"Listen girlie, I wanna smoke."  
  
~  
  
Johnny woke again. The numbness only went up midway now; he could feel his body above the middle of his back now. He almost wished he couldn't. Johnny's brain was a muddle of thought, trying to block out the one fact he didn't want to know: he was dying.  
  
"Pony?" he asked hoarsely. No one replied. Johnny licked his lips nervously, trying to look around the room without moving. He couldn't see much from his position flat on his back. "Two-Bit?"  
  
"They left." The nice nurse, Johnny thought, feeling somewhat comforted. He liked the nice nurse, and only the nice nurse.  
  
Her head poked over him, smiling reassuringly. She tucked the sheets in beside him, her grin never wavering. "Honey, you sure you don't want to see your mother?" she asked absently. Johnny stiffened. A piercing pain shot down his spine and he gasped aloud.  
  
"No!" he almost shouted. "I don't wanna see her!" He didn't want to waste what time he had…his eyes squeezed shut and his fists clenched tightly, the fact that he didn't have much time hurting more than anything. He was afraid, more afraid than he'd ever been in his lifetime of constantly being afraid.  
  
"Alright, alright, relax honey," the nurse said hastily, backing up. Her eyes fluttered around the room in the awkward silence, searching for something, any distraction.  
  
"This book!" she cried suddenly. "Your friends left it…" Johnny strained desperately, trying to see the novel she now held in her hands. 'Ponyboy,' he thought smiling. Ponyboy was the closest thing he had to a brother. He could imagine Pony now. He'd be worried about him, Johnny knew. Ponyboy cared about him, really cared. And he understood things that no one else could. Only Ponyboy knew how much he really worshiped Dallas, and only Ponyboy would understand about it.  
  
"Do you want me to read it to you?"  
  
Johnny looked up at the nurse, wanting to say yes. But his urgency was too great. There were other things he wanted to do.  
  
"Where's Dallas?" His voice quavered. "I want to see him."  
  
The nurse shook her head, blond curls bouncing. "I'm sorry honey but he can't see you now."  
  
"How is he?" Johnny said softly.  
  
The nurse's brow creased in a frown. "I don't know for sure honey, I haven't seen him…but word is that he's okay," she added quickly, not wanting to upset Johnny any more than he was.  
  
"Ponyboy?"  
  
"Which one's that?"  
  
"Young. Blond. Came here." He already felt too talkative. He wasn't used to speaking to strangers. Even nice strangers.  
  
The nurse's brow creased in a frown of confusion. "He looked alright to me honey."  
  
"I-need-to-talk-to-him." Johnny's mouth was dry and his tongue felt like sandpaper. He knew already that his friend was gone, he didn't need to hear the nurse say it again, her red mouth twisting with the words.  
  
"He's not here, honey."  
  
Johnny nodded absently, a sudden calm settling down over him. He could see the boy in his mind's eye, so innocent, so pure…so gold. Johnny closed his eyes. He knew so much about Ponyboy; at times he could almost read his mind. There was so much he wanted to tell his best friend, but he knew, and this time he wasn't so afraid, that he didn't have much time. A sense of purpose filling his serene mind, he opened his eyes again.  
  
"Do me a favour," he said to the nurse in his quiet voice, and for once it didn't waver. "You'll need a pen." 


	29. Chapter 29

1 Slashed Tires Chapter 29  
  
A/N: I forgot. There's that rumble. Well, I don't know exactly how many more chapters there are, but I guess you will all find out won't you?  
  
P.S. Apologies for the long sentences: I'm reading Charles Dickens.  
  
P.P.S. Charles Dickens writes sentences that are paragraphs.  
  
~  
  
"You listen here woman-"  
  
"I said there is NO SMOKING! Why can't you just accept-"  
  
"I don't want to!"  
  
The nurse's reply was cut off by a loud knock. Fuming, she stomped over and wrenched open the door.  
  
"We're here to visit Dallas Winston-" Two-Bit began awkwardly, staring at the voluptuous blond planted firmly in front of him, both hands on hips, eyes contorted in an angry glare.  
  
"You got company," the nurse yelled over her shoulder. "Beats the hell outta me why anyone would wanna visit you." She stormed out, muttering angrily about rude teenage 'dickheads'.  
  
Two-Bit smirked. "Score one more for Dallas Winston, the amazing woman repeller." To which Dallas flipped him off, rolling his eyes.  
  
Ponyboy stepped in after his friend, wearily rubbing his aching head. The minute they'd left Johnny, his head had begun to pound, and it steadily grew worse. Now it felt like there were a dozen tiny men with pickaxes, chopping away at his brain. He caught Dally's eye and tried to smile.  
  
"Man, am I glad to see you!" Dallas returned the boy's grin. "These fucking hospital people won't let me smoke – and I want out!"  
  
Two-Bit grinned and Ponyboy gave the little half smile again.  
  
"Shepard came to see me awhile ago," Dally informed them.  
  
"So we heard. Johnny told us. What did he want?" Two-Bit plopped down on the bed (whose sheets were rumpled again). Ponyboy gave him an inquisitive look, paired with characteristic silence.  
  
"Said he saw my picture in the paper." Dally made a face, covering his smile. He'd never admit it, but secretly he was enjoying the (for once) POSITIVE attention. He wondered if Cherry would see it. A pang of guilt ran through him as he realized he'd been looking at another woman. Then he remembered that he didn't really care about Cherry, and that his was only interested as a vital young alpha male in the prime of his reproductive era (or, he wanted sex). Then he had to push the matter from his mind, because he knew if he didn't, he would end up confessing it all to the two boys and begging for their opinion, enduring Two-Bit's scorn and Ponyboy's impregnable silence.  
  
"He mostly came to rub it in about the rumble. Man, I hate not being in that." He wanted so bad to whip the damn Socs. They'd beaten him up last time, and in front of Cherry even… 'Damn,' he cursed. Well, he wanted to beat them for Johnny. Anger rolled over him when he thought of how the poor kid had ended up. Dallas took a deep breath, calming himself down.  
  
Two-Bit rolled his eyes. He'd be willing to trade places with Dallas any day. Being able to sit back, relax, and have dinner served to you by gorgeous cooing blondes in nurse outfits was a million times better than slouching around in a cold, dark, alley, occasionally punching someone you didn't know, and ending up with a black eye, bloody nose, and cracked rib.  
  
Ponyboy sat down in the only chair, a battered maroon vinyl armchair, which had a broken leg and squeaked loudly when anyone sat down in it. Dally watched him, and had to grin when the chair uttered no sound under the silent boy's weight.  
  
"Kid you scared the devil outta me the other day. I thought I'd killed you."  
  
"Me?" Ponyboy pointed at himself, his eyes wide, puzzled. "Why?"  
  
'Two words. There's a start,' Dally thought dryly. "When you jumped out of the church. I meant to hit you only hard enough to knock you down and put out your back. When you went down like a ton of lead I thought I'd aimed to high and broke your neck." Dally smiled. Pony's eyes were wide, almost like it had actually happened and he was just being told about it now. "Glad I didn't though," he added, trying to reassure the kid.  
  
To Dally's surprise Ponyboy grinned. "Yeah, I'll bet," he said smirking.  
  
For a while no one said anything. Dally stared back out the window. The sun was just beginning to go down.  
  
"Uhh…" he tried to fill the silence. "How's the kid?"  
  
"We just left him." Two-Bit hesitated. "I don't know much about this stuff or anything, but…he didn't look so good to me. Passed out cold before we left him."  
  
A pain went through Dally's heart and he swore. All other thoughts were gone, leaving him with only the all-consuming anger he felt when Johnny was hurt.  
  
"Two-Bit." His voice was dead cold. "You still got that fancy black handled switch?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Give it here." The cold metal was in his hand in a heartbeat.  
  
"We gotta win this thing tonight. We gotta get even with those Socs. For Johnny." The switchblade safely under his pillow, the two boys forgotten, Dally glared up at the shiny white surface of the hospital ceiling, his heart pounding with a deadly hatred. He'd get even all right. If it killed him. 


	30. Chapter 30

1 Slashed Tires Chapter 30  
  
A/N: Hello writer's block. Yes, it is back. If there is any person who is FOR writer's block, BEWARE my psycho friend, you may be trampled in the near future by hordes of screaming, frustrated writers.  
  
P.S. I just read the horoscopes in Cosmo. Please forgive the ominous warning in my A/N. Many thanks.  
  
P.P.S. The starting scene is sorta filler and sorta slow. I don't know where it came from, but it's here. If it had a title, it would be called "shit". For more than one reason.  
  
P.P.P.S. I have nothing against the Beatles really.  
  
P.P.P.P.S. This is crazy. I need to talk less. Is anyone reading this? But warning, there are some drugs in this chapter, but I don't know how normal people react when they're high. And there is swearing, as it is my habit.  
  
P.P.P.P.P.S. I think I stole the last line from something. Apologies. And also, this is sappy. Again, apologies.  
  
~  
  
"Shit." Soda said loudly, and Steve looked up from his coffee.  
  
"What," he asked monotonously. He'd known the instant that Soda had picked up the paper that he'd go off the wall.  
  
"Shit. How could they do that? How could they think of doing that? It wasn't Darry's fault that Johnny and Pony got into trouble." And then, "SHIT!" again, remembering the reason why Ponyboy had left the house in the first place. Maybe it was Darry's fault. Soda slumped down in the metal chair, his head in his hands. Soft tinkling music was playing from the radio. Canned music. Beatles. "Shit." Soda said again. His brain hurt. "They can't take us away. Goddamn authorities. Shit."  
  
Steve tossed his empty "milk" carton into the garbage can. He slurped at his coffee, then spit it out, gagging. The DX coffee was the only thing he had against his job. He'd never tasted the garage oil, but he'd swear on his life that half the dark drink was made of the smelly liquid. He tossed his cracked mug into the sink and lumbered over to where Sodapop sat, dropping down in an identical greasy chair.  
  
"Mellow out man." Steve lit a cigarette, trying to get the taste of tar out of his mouth. "Darry's smart. Ponyboy will be fine. Hell, it's just the damn paper, you know they have to make a big deal about everything. It's their business to fool around with other peoples business, and freak out innocent by-standerers like yo-self." Steve took a drag off his smoke and pointed the thing at Soda like a weapon. "So I says: Mellow out man."  
  
"I wouldn't say I'm a bystander Steve," Soda replied dryly. "It's only MY LITTLE BROTHER who's being brought to court. Shit. Man, you are stoned."  
  
Steve rubbed his reddened eyes with the back of his hand. "Sody. I ain't stoned. I'm tired. And I'm sick of all this stuff happening. We gotta end this thing Sody. If it weren't for those goddamn Socies we'd be cool. Johnny and Pony would'a never got in trouble. I'm fucking sick of this!" He yelled suddenly, slamming his fist down on the blue metal table. "We gotta stomp them Socies good Sodypop. We gotta wipe the floor with them's insides." He took a last puff off his weed and let it drop, grinding the ground a couple of inches from it with his heal. Soda looked at him wearily.  
  
"If you smoked up a dime, I'll beat your head in."  
  
"Naw. Only half." Steve lifted himself off the rickety chair and spat.  
  
"You sicken me." Soda stood, and, moving at twice his friend's speed, he walked forward. "Give it here."  
  
Without a word, Steve deposited the remaining marijuana in his best friend's open palm.  
  
"Shit." Soda shook his head, giving the baggy back to Steve. "You better have paper."  
  
Steve yawned and ripped up a DX flyer. "You got a light?" he asked, handing the pot back to Soda.  
  
"Mmmm." Soda replied, flicking his lighter. Then, "Ohh yeah," as he inhaled the smoke. It was stronger than he'd thought, and he soon found himself in the same stated as Steve. His mind went blank, the lights dancing before his eyes; the yell that signified the end of the coffee break was only a heavenly break from the radioed Beatles. All intelligent thought drained from his mind, leaving only a string of "shit, shit, shit, shit" in its absence.  
  
"Mmmahhh." Soda stared unblinkingly at the ceiling. "Stevie, you gotta disgust me more often." Steve drooled in answer.  
  
"Yurgh."  
  
~  
  
'Don't look up. Don't look up.' Icy blues fixed on his tennis shoes, Dallas made his way through the maze of white corridors. He'd noticed, within the first five seconds of his escape, that his shoes were also white. He made a mental note to stain them with something. Maybe Steve could drench them in oil.  
  
His straining ears were soon rewarded. He heard the nurse coming. 'Don't look up,' he reminded himself fiercely, the shh-click of high heels beating on his brain like a jackhammer. Heart pounding, he reached inside his pocket, fingering the smooth blade he'd taken from Two-Bit. But the nurse shh-clicked her way past, with hardly a glanced at the blond. Dally let the breath whoosh out of him. He'd copied Pony's silence, and somehow, he'd managed the saddened, pitiful look Johnny wore on occasion. Dallas smiled. He'd have been an actor if he hadn't turned out to be the jackass bastard he knew he was.  
  
He slid down the hall, slowly, silently, slippery as the grease he refused to put in his hair. Intensive care smelled like antiseptic and piss. The elevator music was drowned out by the whirring of electric machinery: life support. Dally suppressed a shudder and sped up his pace. He was willing to chance getting spotted if it meant a few less seconds spent in the hall of the dead. Dally peered in the different rooms, but recognised no one. He continued, further and further into the hellhole, worrying that he'd somehow missed the right room, always wishing he could turn and hurry out. Then, almost at the end of the corridor, his perseverance was rewarded.  
  
"Johnnycake?" he called softly, sliding into the room. The boy's pale eyes opened, the black orbs as glassy as the enamelled walls.  
  
"Dallas?"  
  
"Yeah, kid." Dally cast his eyes over the room, searching out any hidden nurse. Finding no one, he hurried to Johnny's side.  
  
"I asked to see you." Johnny was struggling to sit up, a sheen of sweat coating his face. "The nurses said you didn't want to see me."  
  
Dallas felt a pang again in his chest. "No, no," he said quickly. "I wanted to. They wouldn't let me see you."  
  
Johnny's eyes closed, and he lay back, giving up on moving. "Oh."  
  
"How ya doing kid?" Dally whispered, pushing Johnny's hair out of his eyes.  
  
Johnny swallowed. "Not so good. I'm not so good Dally. Dallas…I think I'm going to…I'm dying Dally." He opened his eyes, sad eyes, sixteen-year-old eyes that hadn't seen enough of the world.  
  
"No!" His voice was too loud, too high. "You aren't dying Johnny! You're just hurt. Don't worry kid," Dally's voice was breathy, as if he'd just run a mile. But at least it was quiet now. "We're gonna get those Socs back! We're gonna beat 'em Johnny…I promise we're gonna get even." He reached forward, brushing the boy's hair again.  
  
"Dallas-"  
  
"No, kid. You gotta rest. You gotta get better. I'll be back. I promise." Dally backed out slowly, not really wanting to leave yet. "Johnny. Hold on kid."  
  
"Bring Ponyboy." Johnny's voice was calm, steady; his black eyes gazed at Dallas. "I need to talk to him. Be careful Dally."  
  
"Yeah. Yeah…" Dallas turned, hurrying from the dark room, down the hall that reeked of death. He raced down the stairs, his heart beating in his ears. Through the lobby and out into the cold night, feet slipping on the tiled floor, he ran. The wind raised to a howl and he stopped, his breath coming in gasps and he leaned against the side of the hospital in the dark, biting his lip and praying that he wouldn't cry. 


	31. Chapter 31

1 Slashed Tires Chapter 31  
  
A/N: Argh. Still got writer's block. Trying to overcome it by forcing self to write. Apologies if this sucks.  
  
P.S. Changed things just a touch. It's hard to follow someone else's plot.  
  
P.P.S. Is either sappy, angsty, or dramatic. Consequently, is rated a possible R. But who cares right?  
  
~  
  
The night was cold. The wind had died down, but there was a chill in the air. Darry hardly noticed. His bare arms were covered in goose bumps and he was shivering, but he was too busy watching the Socs pile out in front of him to care. One of those guys was going to share the fame of starting the rumble with him. Darry wondered if the guy was as nervous as he was about it. He wondered if the guy even knew that he was going to start the fight. He scanned the crowd in front of him, searching for something in their faces that would show they were to be his opponent. Pale faces, devoid of expression sneered back at him. Darry stared back, his face smooth and bland. He waited until the greasers were ready, then stepped forward, giving in to his curiosity.  
  
"I'll take on anyone," he said stonily, his eyes travelling through the throng of Soc-male. There was a ripple in the crowd, and then there was a boy standing in front of him, his age, maybe a year older, with blond hair, and a cock-sure smile playing across a face Darry remembered all too well.  
  
"Hello Paul."  
  
He was quiet, and just for one second he let his feelings flicker across his eyes. They didn't have to do this. He watched Paul, awaiting an answer he knew he'd hate.  
  
A smirk, and then, in a tone infused with disdain:  
  
"Hello Darrel."  
  
Dead voice, dead eyes, dead friend. He'd lost the Paul he once knew.  
  
"I'll take you."  
  
'Yeah, I'll bet you wish you could you fucking bastard,' Darry thought automatically. It wasn't fair. Paul had been one of his best friends; they'd sworn allegiance out there on the field. And after that night, they'd be sure enemies.  
  
Darry smiled bitterly. Paul didn't stand a chance. He had his disdain, his expensive training, his hatred for Darry's 'kind'. But none of that was a match for the injustice Darrel felt so keenly. His body tensed, and he crouched slightly, mirroring Paul. The two circled, slowly, scouting each other, looking for any opening to attack. Darry's body felt like it would explode. He heard each rustle of jeans, the harsh breathing on both sides, and the faces behind Paul blurred until grease was Soc and Soc was grease, all silhouetted against a backdrop of the blackest night.  
  
"Hold up!" The voice was so clear, so loud for a minute Darry was sure it was his own. His head snapped to the side, searching out the source of the voice, and then he was hit.  
  
~  
  
"Hold up!" Dallas dashed up to the rumble. His yelling was useless. They'd started anyway.  
  
"I said 'hold up' you fucked up dip-shit idiots! Jesus mother fucking Christ!" He went at the nearest Soc he could find. But his will alone was not enough this time, and with his damaged arm he was soon being beaten to a ragged, half crying, pulp.  
  
"Yeearrhh!" With a war cry he'd never heard before, Ponyboy launched himself on the Socs back, biting, tearing at the boy's dark hair, his feet kicking uselessly. Amazed Dally stood back and watched him for a split second, before Two-Bit shoved him forward with an undeterminable yelp. He went down, dragging the Soc, dragging Ponyboy, into a puddle of yelling, hissing, spitting human.  
  
"I thought…you were in…the hospital!" Ponyboy yelled, between punches.  
  
"I was! I ain't now!" 'Whose the pulp now?' he thought giddily, throwing another half-assed whack at the Soc. He knew it wasn't fair, two against one wasn't ever fair, with the exception of maybe Darry, but it felt good not to be on the losing end.  
  
"How?"  
  
This was crazy. Talking, while trying to fight someone was like trying to read upside down when you're drunk. It's just not feasible for normal mortal beings.  
  
"I talked my nurse into it with Two-Bit's switch!" Dally yelled, somehow defying the laws of natural human behavior. "Don't you know a rumble ain't a rumble unless I'm in it?"  
  
Then Ponyboy was knocked off, hit in the head by some stupid blond Soc. Darry barreled through the crowd, snatching up the boy in one hand, warding other rich kids off with the other. Dally winced, not wanting to know how that Soc was going to end up.  
  
"They're running! Look at the dirty son-of-a-bitches run!" Two-Bit screamed, right in his ear. Dally shoved the wise-cracker away, leaning down and shaking Ponyboy. He'd promised Johnny the kid, and he'd do anything in his power to keep that promise.  
  
"Come on! We're gonna see Johnny." Ponyboy was struggling to keep up with him. 'He ain't doing so well,' Dally thought eyeing him. But, at that point he didn't care. Johnny was the only thing on his mind. "Hurry," Dallas snapped impatiently. "He was getting worse when I left. Wanted to see you."  
  
They ran, diving into Buck's T-Bird. Dally started the engine up, wondering with vague surprise how he'd managed to remember where he'd parked.  
  
They drove fast, the lights a blur outside the windows. Ponyboy groaned softly, his eyes glazed over and sick. Dally's mind was a blur. In the midst of all his thoughts, he remembered sitting in that car just yesterday, driving down to see the kids, his main concern about how much he liked Cherry. He shook his head now, wishing to be in there again, wishing he'd had the sense to wait one more day, wishing that he'd done something…anything…  
  
A shrill scream split the air: the cops. 'SHIT!' Dally thought. He glanced around frantically for a reason to be speeding. "Look sick," he ordered Ponyboy, surprised his voice was so steady. "I'll tell the fuzz I'm taking you to the hospital, which is truth enough." Ponyboy groaned again, leaning his forehead on the window. Dallas glanced at the kid, really seeing him. Ponyboy looked like he'd been to hell and back. Dally felt a pang, knowing the kid didn't deserve that…he deserved better. He deserved a life.  
  
~  
  
Johnny was so ready for this he thought he'd burst out laughing and suffocate himself before his friends got there. But there was still a longing inside him. He needed to see Dally, one last time before he left him. Johnny's eyes closed. He'd always known he cared about the tow-headed greaser, but he was smart, smarter than most people thought, and he knew the best way to deal with feelings was to not think about them too much, not try and understand every little bit of them, or you'd drive yourself insane. That was one thing he knew that Dallas didn't. He smiled, picturing his friends again in his mind. He'd take that memory with him wherever he was headed. Two-Bit, cocking and eyebrow, talking and joking, Steve and Soda, one leaping and laughing, the other dark, passion shining in his eyes. Darry, flexing his muscles, but Darry was always strong. He'd be okay, and he'd take care of them all. Ponyboy…he opened his eyes, and looked to the table beside him. He saw, and was reassured, the note, barely sticking out of the pages of 'Gone with the Wind'. Ponyboy was gonna make it big somewhere. He was gonna be happy. All he had to do was keep some of that wonder. But Dally…Johnny sighed softly. The blond needed Johnny as much as he needed Dallas. He had so much to learn about the world, about the good that still existed, and Johnny hoped Ponyboy would tell him that, before it was too late.  
  
Johnny glanced at the clock, it's tiny black wand ticking away the seconds of his life. A sudden lightning bolt of pain rain down his back and his body shuddered. Johnny fought dizzily against unconsciousness. He eyes fixed again on the clock, silently begging the boys to hurry up.  
  
~  
  
"Okay buddy where's the fire." Dallas wanted to punch out that stupid cop.  
  
"The kid," he barreled ahead, trying to control himself. "He fell off his motorcycle. I'm takin' him to the hospital."  
  
"Is he okay? Do you need an escort?" Goddamn fickle minded fuzz.  
  
"Yeah we could use an escort." Dallas watched the cop swagger back to his car. 'Sucker,' he thought, and hissed the word aloud, tasting with relish the contempt dripping from every note.  
  
Buck's car sped down the road, the shrieking siren leading the way. Dally almost laughed…Two-Bit would have a field day with this one. He could almost hear him… "Aren't the cops usually behind you Dallas?" The engine roared under him, bouncing over a pothole, eliciting a low moan from Ponyboy. Dally glanced at the kid. He was so fucking innocent. Just like Johnny.  
  
"Man, I was crazy, you know that kid? Crazy, wanting Johnny to stay outta trouble, not wanting him to get hard. If he'd been like me, he'd never be in this mess. He wouldn't have run into that damn church. That's what you get for helping people kid…editorials and a lot of trouble. You better wise up Ponyboy. You get tough like me and no one can hurt you…" 'Shut up,' Dally thought desperately at himself, but at that moment he couldn't have stopped talking to save his life.  
  
They were speeding twice as fast as any other car on the road, but they still weren't moving fast enough for Dallas. When they finally pulled up to the hospital, he had to force himself not to sprint up the stairs and leave Ponyboy behind. He helped the boy out of the car, watching as the cops roared off. And then they were running, through the lobby, past hordes of gaping people and disapproving nurses. Up the stairs, their pounding hearts the only sound in their ears, down the hall, and right into the stern gaze of a doctor.  
  
"You can't see him boys. He's dying."  
  
The knife was out before he could think of it. "We gotta see him." He'd never sounded so shaky. "We gotta see him, and if you give me any static, you're gonna end up on your own operatin' table." Dally wiped his face with his arm. He'd been worried about crying before, and now he was having trouble not falling to his knees and sobbing in front of this man. He didn't hear the doctor's answer, but darted past, dragging Ponyboy into the room where a little boy lay, drenched in sweat, his black hair plastered to his paled forehead.  
  
"Johnnycake? Johnny?"  
  
Moving slowly, like in a dream, Dally shifted through the room. He was speaking but he didn't hear the words, and now Johnny was smiling, his white face glowing. Then his mouth opened, and he too, spoke silent words, beckoning with his hand. Dallas stared back, helpless and hopeless, as Ponyboy glided forward and bent down to Johnny's side. His mind whirled. He felt like he was falling. Dizzily he moved forward, his eyes searching for Johnny's and finding them closed, his hand clasping desperately the boy's, clammy fingers unmoving in his grip. Johnny had woke up, he wasn't dreaming no more, but Dallas was still stuck in this nightmare. He groped for someone, anyone to share it the rest of it with. He found only the boy.  
  
Ponyboy stared at him, solemn. His eyes were filmy and white, his blood drenched clothes plastered to his slender frame. He didn't move, didn't speak, didn't breathe. He was silent. He was a ghost, and Dally couldn't look at him.  
  
His chest hurt bad, like someone had broken all his ribs into his lungs; he was gasping. Dallas leaned forward brushing Johnny's hair. His fingers burned with the feel of it.  
  
"Never could keep that hair back." Black bangs always in the kid's eyes. There was something in his eyes too, watery, stinging, something he hadn't wanted, but Dallas didn't care anymore. He felt them run down his face and thought 'This is real.' And Johnny was gone.  
  
Like a shattered mirror, reality broke through the dream, and truth crashed down on him.  
  
"That's what you get for tryin' to help people, you little punk, that's what you get…" Johnny had died, in this room that smelled of antiseptic and piss, in a room where the machines were still droning, covering the sounds of his own harsh breathing.  
  
"Damnit Johnny! Don't die, please don't die!" He hurt, worse than he'd ever hurt before and he couldn't breathe. But there was no point anyway. Goodness and life and anything worthwhile had died in a white enameled room, and evil had won, and would always win.  
  
"Please…" He ran, from the knowledge that was haunting him now, the last of his hope dead with Johnny. And Dallas knew, with a damning clarity that he'd lost his mind. 


	32. Chapter 32

Slashed Tires Chapter 32  
  
A/N: This is it. Sorry for those who don't like it, but the story demanded to go the way it does. Rated R for angst.  
  
P.S. Angst may turn out to be sap. Wrote this sleep-drunk.  
  
~  
  
There was blood, dripping slowly and surely down the leg of his jeans covering his feet. Dallas watched it, wanting to laugh. He'd managed to stain his shoes after all. He'd never imagined they'd turn out red.  
  
There was a phone in his hand, and Darry's voice, tiny and canned, was calling out faintly.  
  
"Hello? Hello? Dallas. Dally where are you. Dallas…hello?"  
  
Slowly Dally brought the phone to his face. "Darrel?" he asked, in a voice rough and hoarse. Why was Darry on the phone?  
  
"Yeah. Where are you."  
  
"I robbed a store." There was a gun in his hand, slick with blood. Dally leaned on the brick wall behind him. His gun wasn't loaded. Someone else had shot him.  
  
"Yeah. Yeah you told me. Where are you."  
  
Dally pulled the phone away, staring at the blood running down his fingers, dripping onto the black receiver.  
  
"Dallas, WHERE ARE YOU."  
  
Slowly, Dally leaned forward again, pressing the payphone to his mouth. "Darrel I'm going to say this once, so you listen." Darry was silent. "The cops are after me-"  
  
"We'll hide you."  
  
"LISTEN." Dally tapped the phone rhythmically with his finger. The siren was loud, wailing, and in another minute they'd have him. But time is not a concern of a madman. "I will meet you, Darrel, by the vacant lot."  
  
"Which-"  
  
"The one beside your house. The one, where we-play-foot-ball." Dally said this slowly and patiently, making sure Darry understood. "I will meet you there. Now." He heard Darry speak, but he didn't need to hear anything else. He needed to get to the lot.  
  
~  
  
Darry hung up the phone, his heart in his mouth. There was something wrong. Something horrible in Dallas that he couldn't understand, something besides grief for Johnny.  
  
"That was Dally. He phoned from a booth. He just robbed a grocery store and the cops are after him. We gotta hide him. He said he'll be at the lot in a minute." Darry's voice was shaking. Soda stared at him, his eyes watery and his face chalk white. Steve was gazing at Ponyboy in horrified realisation and Two-Bit was on the verge of tears. Ponyboy was sick, his eyes feverish, looking like he was going to faint. But every one of them stood, and, gathering what little energy they had left, they began to run.  
  
~  
  
Gravel and grass and dirt: he'd made it to the lot. Dally scrambled down the sidewalk, the light shrieking above him. A wail, in his ear, so close he could taste it…they were coming for him. 'Johnny,' he thought desperately, 'wait for me.' Closer, closer, the siren came, it was a scream now, screaming something at him, something he couldn't understand and didn't want to. Standing, panting, the light pooling around him, harsh and yellow, Dallas jerked the gun from his waistband. He didn't aim, didn't pull the trigger, he barely held the weapon. But the police did. 'Go on, shoot!" he urged them. His brain was so empty and everything was suddenly so clear, but for a tiny, loving voice, ringing in the back of his head. 'I'm coming Johnny!' he thought, his heart beating hard, thump, thump, thump, and he saw death bearing down on him. Eagerly, waiting for it, he saw them lift their guns, saw them shoot, the bullets rippling through the air and then with the sudden harsh and cruel timing of life, his mind returned and he thought,  
  
  
  
'WAIT!'  
  
  
  
And then…pain. Clear and soundless, poised just before him, a sweet release he no longer wanted, pausing, like a breath held…  
  
And then it broke upon him like water, and wave after wave after wave it crashed down upon him, searing, hot white pain that made his soul scream in agony and he didn't want that.  
  
It was too late. But he called for Johnny, desperately, 'Johnny! Johnny…' and receiving no answer, a terror he couldn't escape filled him. The world around him faded, the details blurred, the colours washed out, and he wished suddenly that he'd done something that he could have remembered now with pride. His mind a whirling torrent of emotion, he could do nothing in his agony but wait, his entire being craving the end of this torment. Then he was falling, down to the ground, not feeling it, but seeing, suddenly, the horrified faces of the only people he'd trusted. A part of him, screaming louder than any siren, a part of him that shone with the brilliance of gold was sobbing for him now, pushing past the glassy surface of insanity, to tell him that he was dead and then…  
  
  
  
…peace.  
  
  
  
the end. 


End file.
